First Impressions
by Axellia
Summary: There's a new girl in Vegas how will the rest of the team react to her? CSI Cheryl, part 5 [COMPLETE]
1. Chapter 1

**Alreety there, folks! I'll start with a disclaimer: CSI and all things affiliated completely belong to me! No, seriously, none of it is mine (sob), but Mr. Bruckheimer, should you be bored enough to be reading this, feel free to send CSI my way... Call it a late Christmas present! ;)**

**Yeah, enough of that. Um, this is a fiction I am writing based on a bizarre dream I had, a while ago now, and it's part 5 of the CSI: Cheryl series (it started off in Miami for background purposes, so it may help to read parts one to four - apparently clicking on my name above will send you to the other parts - it's your choice)**

**Pairings...there will be some hint's of a Sophia/Sara/Grissom thing, and some hints of Catherine/Warrick, (two of the characters will be having a small love affair – what can I say, I'm a hopeless romantic) There will be a strong Cheryl/Greg friendship (they're the closest in age! But nothing more!) and a Nick/Cheryl friendship, but again nothing more. And I'm going to try to keep the plot quite case driven.**

**But you don't need to read any more of this, so I'll shut you up and let you read! All I ask is you give it a chance, and if you don't like it, let me know… And if you do like it, let me know :p**

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_First impressions… their either good or bad, and what's good to one person isn't necessarily good for another. And you only get one chance. Sounds obvious? So why do so many people make the wrong first impression when they know how important they can be?_

Cheryl parked her Hummer and looked up at the new building in front of her. Her new place of work. She had had to do one of the things she hated, and pulled a few strings, but she had gotten a job here. She wasn't bothered where in the country she had ended up, as things had gotten fairly bad back at her last place, and that hadn't been entirely her own fault. So maybe hitting at the reporter hadn't been the wisest of decisions, but she had missed him. And she had been suspended, and she had gone to the stupid anger management sessions. But the reason she'd hit out at the reporter in the first place – not her fault! So, here she was… Las Vegas.

Cheryl leant over to the passenger side foot well. Curled up in a fluffy ball was Eddie, her gosling, a leaving present from her friends in Miami. She'd been in Vegas for all of an hour, and it had taken that long to find the Crime Lab. She hadn't even been to her house yet, which was somewhere in Henderson… wherever Henderson was from here. And as a result, her other car was still attached to the Hummer, with all of her belongings in them. Including Eddie. Eddie was going to have to stay with her. And the only place she could leave him was the car. But he had food, water, and an open window. Thankfully, it was a cool day and by the looks of things, the evening would be just as cool.

She got out of her car and tried to straighten her clothes. She had driven from Miami to Las Vegas, beating her belongings which were being shipped, and the only thing she had that was smart enough for a first day at work was a black pair of jeans, and a vest top. Which looked fine, except for the fact the only shoes she had were her running shoes. Oh well. She grabbed her kit and hurried towards the building.

She pushed open the door to the Crime Lab and was met with the usual bustle associated with a busy workplace. She headed straight to the front desk, and asked the receptionist where she could find the man she was after. After being told to try the break room, she headed down one of the corridors, peering nosily into the rooms she walked past. Well, most of them had large glass walls. Especially the room she assumed was the DNA lab.

She walked over to one of the few rooms which had normal walls and stood outside. It looked like the break room. She was about to enter when two voices carried out.

'So, I spoke to Ecklie. He's only gone and hired a new CSI for this shift. What do we need a new CSI for?'

'Sara, there's nothing wrong with a new person.'

'There is when I'm going to be the one babysitting her. I bet she doesn't even know the difference between blood and ketchup.'

'Sara,' repeated the other person. He had an accent Cheryl hadn't heard in a long time, since college. A Texan. 'Everybody has to start somewhere. And I'm pretty certain Ecklie wouldn't hire someone that green.'

Cheryl stepped into the doorway and knocked on the door, 'excuse me, could you help me?'

A woman with shoulder length, dark brown hair looked over at her, and glared, 'interns aren't allowed back here.'

'Oh, I'm not an intern,' said Cheryl. _Here we go again_, she thought, well aware that even on the best of days, she only just looked old enough to be considered 'of age'. Perhaps choosing to wear her hair in braided pig tails wasn't the best of ideas.

'Well, the school trips aren't allowed back here either.' She told her. She was clearly unhappy about being interrupted.

Cheryl was about to say something when someone appeared behind her, 'Lindsay, what are you doing here? Are you looking for your mom?'

Cheryl turned around to find a tall black man stood behind her, 'I'm sorry?'

'Oh, wow, my bad. You look just like Cath's kid from behind. Although, you are actually about a foot taller than her, now that I look at you.'

'Cath?' Cheryl was lost.

'Never mind. Have you lost your school group?' He asked her as he walked past her into the room.

'School group? What Crime lab allows school tours? And I'm twenty three.'

'Oh, sorry, you look younger,' he said, 'in which case, the interns need to head back that way,' he told her, pointing down the corridor behind her.

'No, you don't understand, I'm,' but she was prevented from explaining why she was there by another voice.

'Lindsay Willows, what are you doing here?' Came an authoritive female voice. Cheryl turned around again to see an older woman with similar coloured hair as herself. 'Oh, you're not Lindsay.' She swept past her and into the room.

'You can't even recognise your own daughter?' Laughed the Texan.

'Can it, Nicky,' she told him, sharply. She turned her attention back to Cheryl. 'School tours aren't allowed to be back here. It's off limits.'

'I'm not here on a school tour! Exclaimed Cheryl, 'I'm twenty three! I left _school _at… a long time ago. And,' she added, seeing the blonde start to say something else, 'I'm not here for an internship.'

'Willows, how many times to you have been told not to bring your child in here.' Came another voice from behind her. Cheryl didn't even bother turning around.

'She's not my daughter, Ecklie.' Said the blonde.

The man named Ecklie entered the room and looked at Cheryl. 'School tours are,'

'Cheryl Carter, transfer from Miami Dade PD,' Cheryl interrupted before she had to defend her age again.

'Ah, so you are the infamous CSI. Miami hasn't stopped singing your praises, especially after your recent promotion. You're a lot younger than I thought.'

Cheryl scowled. 'Yeah, I get that a lot.'

'I can understand why,' Ecklie continued. 'What you have accomplished is remarkable. I have just finished reading through your file.'

'Thanks.' Cheryl looked at her feet.

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Sara looked at the new girl. How could she possibly have accomplished much? She looked like she was barely out of school, let alone college. Although the name was ringing a bell.

'Are you sure I can't persuade you to head the day shift? Your talents would be better suited there.' Ecklie asked the new girl.

Sara glared incredulously at Cheryl, before sneaking a glance at Catherine. Catherine was fuming, understandably so. Not so long ago, she herself had been a shift leader, and because of the incident with Nick, she was back to being Grissom's second in command. In fact, both herself and Nick had applied for a promotion and here Ecklie was offering it to some child.

'No. Thank you. I just want to get set in here. I am really not supervisor material. More of a sheep than a shepherd.' Cheryl was telling him, an embarrassed expression on her face. Good.

'Very well, let's see, where is Grissom? Ah, here you are. You're late.'

'Ecklie, you are early.' Came another voice. 'I am on time.'

Another man entered the filling room and looked over at the new girl. 'Cheryl, this is your supervisor, Gil Grissom.' Said Ecklie. Sara watched Grissom and was upset to see that he looked happy to see the new girl. Sara sighed. She'd better not be more competition. _Did she just think that? She was over Grissom, wasn't she?_

'Detective Cheryl Carter, CSI 3. Transferred in from Miami Dade. Pleased to meet you,' Cheryl said, offering her hand to Grissom.

'CSI 4,' corrected Ecklie, as Cheryl and Grissom shook hands. The room looked at her in disbelief. Sara glared at her. She couldn't help it. This girl couldn't be for real, could she? This was either some bizarre dream, or a test.

Cheryl sighed. 'I'm no different from a level 3. It's just some stupid thing the mayor of Miami wanted to do. And the only thing it has ever done for me is cause a lot of grief. Really, it's more of an award, than anything else. Although personally, I think they could have given me a new set of wheels for my Hummer.'

Sara glanced over at Catherine. She was still fuming and glaring at the new girl. Sara was glad it wasn't her who had annoyed her, this time. It was now somebody else's turn to feel the brunt of Catherine's wrath. She hid her mouth behind her hand, so as not to let anyone see the evil grin that was spreading across her face. She glanced over at Warrick and Nick. Both were looking at her like… like they recognised her, or something?

'Don't' be shy, Cheryl,' said Eckile, placing his hand on her shoulder, 'Cheryl here not only saved the Mayor of Miami's son, but also is the brains behind the Cocaine Procedure.'

The Cocaine Procedure? That was her? Sara frowned. That Procedure was relatively new and had only been published a few months ago. Apparently the scientist behind it didn't like talking in front of people, which is why she never did a convention, but made a DVD and sent it out to the crime labs around the country. But the girl on the video had looked a lot older and, like she knew how to handle a gun. This girl, well, she had something that looked like a bullet scar on her shoulder. On top of that, the woman in the video was American, and this girl here had an English accent. Besides, she remembered Warrick saying he had met the woman in the video when he had gone to Miami a few years back on a case. Carry, Carly, or was it Katie? Either way, it wasn't Cheryl.

Sara watched Cheryl cringe, 'it still doesn't deserve a level 4 to be tagged on to it,' she said quietly, obviously aware of the glares coming from Catherine and the ones she was also sending her way.

'Of course it does,' said Ecklie. He turned and left the room, 'come find me if you have any problems,' he shouted over his shoulder.

'Well this is awkward,' said Cheryl to the staring group, her face was turning the same colour as her crimson top. And then…

_Save a horse, ride a cowboy…_

Sara fought to withhold another smile, and then she saw Nick's face light up at the sound. Sara sighed; it wasn't going to take much to make him like her.

'Um, excuse me,' Cheryl pulled her cell out of her phone, and flicked it open. 'Y'ello…. Hey, Horatio… I'm here now… ask away…' Cheryl turned redder and covered the mouth piece as she started laughing, 'no, Horatio, I haven't seen your sunglasses… Me? Hide them...? Nah, you must have me confused with Delko… He's not seen them? Have you tried asking Calleigh…? I know she was saying she thought they would look good with the shoes she bought the other day…' She covered up the mouth piece again, and let out another cackle, 'Okay, okay, I give up. They're in the Hummer door pocket… No, I'm not telling you which one. You're the CSI, you work it out… Horatio, I am shocked, I mean, I never expected to hear those words out of your mouth… well, if you want to do that, fine, but if I end up dead tomorrow, you are going to be top of the suspect list…! Yeah, you too.' She hung up the phone and turned back to face the group, 'sorry, that was-'

Calleigh, that was the name of the woman who had been in the video. So what? Had this girl stolen the procedure off the other woman? Or had she stolen her identity? Or both? Sara continued to glare at her – she would have to find out which it was, because currently, this girl was sounding almost too good to be true, and lord knows she'd worked enough fraud cases in the past to realise something wasn't right.

'Horatio Caine?' Asked Catherine.

'You know him?' Cheryl said, returning the question with another.

'We worked on a case together a few years back.' Catherine looked like she was going to say something but stopped. Cheryl bit her lip and looked to the ground. This was not going how she expected.

'You mean you hid that guy's shades, and you are still alive?' Asked Warrick. He had told Sara about the case in Miami after he had returned from the same case with Catherine.

'Yeah, but there are a few miles between us now.' Cheryl looked at him, 'I see his reputation for wearing sunglasses had spread to this side of America, or have you've met him too?'

'Yeah, I worked with him too. Sorry, I'm Warrick. Warrick Brown.' Sara watched as he walked over and shook her hand.

'So, you're twenty three and a CSI,' Sara scowled, '_4_.'

Cheryl rubbed the back of her neck. 'Yeah, something like that.'

'And on that note, I have tonight's assignments. Catherine, you and Nick have a 419 out on the strip,' said Grissom, interrupting her before Sara could continue with her investigating. 'Warrick, you're with me on a B&E, and Sara, you take Cheryl and Greg for a DB…' he trailed off. 'Where is Greg?'

'Locker room, Grissom.' Said Catherine.

Grissom lips locked together in a thin line, 'his tardiness, recently, has become a little excessive.' He mumbled, as the group quickly filed out of the room.

'Told you so,' Sara grumbled to Nick as he walked out. 'Tell Greg we'll meet him outside.' She marched off, out of the room, leaving Cheryl to follow her out, wondering how long this shift was going to last.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey, if you're reading this - you're giving it a chance! Yay, thank you!**

Cheryl followed her to a blue Yukon, where Sara proceeded to lean against the driver's door, tapping her foot impatiently. She was reading the small slip of paper with the address on that Grissom had given her. 'Henderson. Marvellous.'

_Henderson?_ 'Um, Sara?'

'Yes?'

'I know this isn't really appropriate, but I arrived in Vegas literally an hour ago, and I never made it to my house. Well, is there any chance we could make a small detour to it on the way back. Only I have Eddie in my car, and I really don't want to leave him in it for the shift, if I can help it.'

'Eddie?'

'Sorry. Eddie's my pet goose.'

Sara frowned, 'fine. But we're not going until after we've been to the crime scene.'

'That's fine. Thank you!' She exclaimed, hurrying over to the Hummer on the other side of the parking lot. She scooped up the sleeping pile of feathers, and carried him back in one hand, against her chest, his box with food and water in the other.

Finally, another person emerged from the building, blonde hair flattened down, and his shoulders hunched up in his jacket, as though he was trying to protect himself from a non existent wind.

'About time, Sanders.' Yelled Sara, as she yanked open the door and got in the car. Cheryl pulled open the door behind and got in the back. A few seconds later, Greg got in the front.

As he buckled up his seatbelt, he noticed Cheryl in the back, looking inquisitively at him. 'Who are you?'

'She's the new CSI,' said Sara.

Greg looked at Cheryl, before looking at Sara, before looking back at Cheryl, 'Okay,' he said slowly, 'I'm Greg.'

'Cheryl.'

'Welcome to Las Vegas,' he said, as they began driving down the strip. 'So what's that in your arms?'

'He's my pet goose, Eddie. I never made it to my house and this case is in Henderson so I figured I could kill to birds with one stone and drop him off on the way. And there was no pun intended in that.'

'Whoa, you're a Brit!'

'Um, yeah.'

Greg swivelled around in his seat, undid his seat belt and practically leapt in the back, knocking Sara on the way. 'Sanders!' She screeched.

'So, say something English,' he said excitedly, ignoring Sara.

'Greg, I am speaking the same language as you.'

'No, say something _English_ English. You know, like Dahling, and crumpets.'

Cheryl burst out laughing, 'no offence, but we don't speak like that, you know.'

'Ah, please. Anything!'

'Trust me when I say there will be plenty of opportunities to catch me on an English phrase, or something like that. I'm a muppet when it comes to things like that.'

Greg started laughing and wiggling about like a small child. 'Muppet?' he said, in a British accent, 'I like that,' he said, clapping his hands.

'Greg Sanders, sit the hell still!' Shouted Sara.

Greg leant forward and kissed her on the cheek, 'chill, Sara,' he told her, leaning back in the seat.

Cheryl covered a smile with a hand and looked out of the window. The next thing she knew, Greg's head was practically in her lap, looking up at her as he stroked Eddie. 'So, Cheryl, what brings you to this neck of the woods?'

'It'sa long story, actually,' she told him, trying hard to resist the urge to flick his nose. 'But the long and short of it is that I was asked.'

'Ooooo, who asked you?'

'Mr. Ecklie.'

'Ha ha! Mr.?'

That was it; the temptation was far too great. She flicked his nose. Greg laughed and started tickling her. She squealed and started tickling him back, all whilst trying to keep Eddie out of the way. The next thing they knew, Sara had slammed on the brakes, and Greg had been thrown in the foot well. 'Sara!' He cried, pulling himself up and onto the seat next to Cheryl. But it was unheard as she had already stalked out of the car.

'Is she always this pleasant?' Asked Cheryl, as she jumped out of the car herself, leaving Eddie in the foot well where Greg had just been.

Greg shrugged. 'She used to be fun… funner.'

'I don't think funner is a word.'

'It's either that or she's still madly in love with me, and finding it difficult to see me talking to you.' He told her, following Sara.

'Are you sure that it's not you who's madly in love with her?' She muttered to herself before catching up with him.

The two walked over to Sara, who was stood outside one of the houses with a blonde detective. The smell was already wafting out of the building. 'A decomp, nice,' said Greg.

'Kids called it in,' said the blonde. 'David's already in there. I hope you haven't eaten anything recently.' She was watching Cheryl who was rooting in her kit for something. Sara on the other hand, had already gone marching into the building. The blonde shrugged her shoulders and followed Sara in, leaving Cheryl and Greg outside.

'You don't like decomps?' Asked Greg, curious as to why Cheryl was putting off going in the building.

'Hell, no,' said Cheryl, as she stood upright, a small pot in her hands. 'But I can make it easier than it has to be. Hey, Greg, shut your eyes.'

Greg pulled a face, but did as he was told. Cheryl dipped her finger into her pot, and dabbed a small amount of the cream onto Greg's upper lip. 'Ew, what is that?' He exclaimed.

Cheryl smiled and put the same thing on her face, in the same place.

'Are you telling me I have a blob on my face?'

'Trust me when I say you will appreciate it in a minute,' she told him, as she returned the tub to her box, and pulled on some gloves. She walked through the doorway, Greg close behind her.

They had only gone a few steps when Greg let out a loud cry, 'hey, I smell vanilla!'

Cheryl turned around and grinned at him, 'so, how much do you love me?'

'Enough to kiss you!'

'Try it, with that stuff on your face, and die!' She laughed.

'And what exactly is this stuff?'

'It's basically an experimental smell altering chemical which was originally being used by garbage men in New York, but the sample has been widened to include garbage men in St. Louis, well.'

'It's experimental!'

'Chill, Greg, it's fine, and it's doing the job.'

'You said garbage men,' he chuckled.

'And why is that funny?'

'Because it sounds funny coming from a Brit.'

Cheryl spit her tongue out at him. She didn't know what it was about Greg, but he was bringing out the child in her.

'How did you manage to get your hands on it?'

'Long story short, I was in the NYPD, and we worked very closely with one of the local fire departments. And like most fire departments, it had a paramedic unit attached to it. And one of the paramedics was very resourceful at finding random stuff like this – a neighbour's brother, or something.'

Finally, they made it upstairs and into one of the rooms. It had, at one point, been a bathroom. Cheryl grimaced, she knew instantly, this was not going to be pretty. It wasn't.

Inside of the grubbiest bathtubs Cheryl had ever seen, was, well, pretty much, soup. Sara was busy talking to the coroner. 'Anything, David?'

'Well, he's dead.'

'He?'

'He, she? It is dead. Can't really tell you much more than that. You're going to have to get whatever bones are left out of there and on my table.'

'Gee, thanks for that analysis, David,' Sara grumbled as David left the room, throwing a smile at Greg and Cheryl, as he did.

'Greg, go get some buckets,' ordered Sara, rising to her feet and turning to face him, 'and what the hell do you have on your faces. God, I am working with children today!'

Cheryl, who up until this point was quite willing to share her crème with Sara, changed her mind at this point. If she was going to be in a bad mood with her for no reason, then so be it. She would have offered the detective some, but she had disappeared somewhere.

Finally Greg returned carrying multiple pipes and buckets. 'Here you go, Sara,' he said, as he put them down beside her.'

Sara glared at him, before wedging a pipe underneath the tub, where the drainage pipes should be. She put the other end in the bucket.

Meanwhile, Cheryl had her flashlight out and was looking at some footprints which had been left in the dirt covered floor.

'Okay, which one of you two is pulling the plug?' Sara called over.

Cheryl looked at her, 'are you serious?'

'She's serious,' sighed Greg, as he began to roll his sleeves up.

'Hey, if we've got to do this, we at least do it fairly.' Objected Cheryl.

'And what are you suggesting?' Asked Sara.

'Rock, scissor, paper.'

'Yeah, I'm up for that!' Exclaimed Greg.

'Not a chance.' Said Sara, dusting off her legs.

Greg looked crestfallen, and continued to roll his sleeve up.

'Hey,' said Cheryl, 'we're still doing this fairly.' She held out her fist. Greg did the same and the two of them revealed their choice. 'Crap.' Said Cheryl, as she took her jacket off. She'd drawn paper, whilst Greg had gone for scissors.

'You know, we can do best out of three,' said Greg, taking pity on the newbie.

'Nah, its fine,' said Cheryl, as she plunged her hand into the thick mixture. The… remains… had filled the tub so that it came up to her elbow. 'Ugh, this is disgusting,' she said. She felt around in the bathtub, looking for the plug. It turned out that whatever was blocking the drain wasn't a plug, but teeth?

Cheryl pulled them out and shined her torch onto them. She wiped away some of the gunk to find something that looked suspiciously like diamonds.

'What have you got there?' Asked Sara, seeing the light reflect off the jewels and onto the ceiling.

Cheryl smiled. 'I'm not sure, but I think out vic had a killer smile, for starters.'

'That's bad,' grinned Greg.

'Thank you, I'm here all week.' Greg gave her a playful shove – a fatal mistake – the remains that were on the teeth went splashing onto Cheryl's pants. 'Great, Greg, that's never coming out.'

'Sorry,' he winced, 'I'll make it up to you.'

'Oh, I know you will, don't worry,' Cheryl's eyes glinted mischievously.

'Oh, please, will you two get a room, already,' complained Sara, as she returned her attention to the crime scene.

'Jealous?' Asked Greg.

Sara ignored him, bending down to pick something up.

'I've run a check on the building,' said the blonde detective, 'it's been empty for months. Junkies have been using it, mainly. Had a call out to it a few months back. Reports of someone inside the building, but there was no sign of forced entry. The house has just been sold, but the paperwork hasn't gone through as to who the house has been sold to.'

'Well the dead guy had to get in here somewhere,' Sara told the other blonde, with something which Cheryl thought sounded like sarcasm lining her tone? 'I'll check outside.' Without waiting for anything, Sara picked up her kit and walked out.

The blonde sighed and muttered something under her breath, which Cheryl didn't quite catch.

Cheryl bagged the teeth and turned her attention to the detective, 'I'd shake your hand, but there's no point in both of us being covered in this gunk. I'm Detective Cheryl Carter.'

'You're a detective working a crime scene?'

'Oh, yeah. Sorry. I transferred from Miami. It's not unusual for a CSI to be a detective too. I keep forgetting that the same thing doesn't apply out here, especially when I'm still carrying a gun.'

'Sofia Curtis.' She introduced herself, 'yeah, I know the feeling, except the other way around. I used to be a CSI. It's hard to walk into a crime scene and remember that I'm not there to process it sometimes.'

Cheryl smiled and glanced at the bath. All the liquid was pretty much out now. 'I can see there being some advantages to no longer having to process certain crime scenes. I should empty this out. I don't think that Sara would be happy if she came back and saw it wasn't done.'

Sofia chuckled, 'you're probably right. I'm going to see if I can follow up on who the house belongs to. I'll see you later.' She left the building, leaving Cheryl staring at various pieces of bones, some pieces of fabric, and a couple of buttons. She bagged them all, taped the lids firmly on the buckets and then pulled off her gloves.

Sara walked back into the bathroom, and dumped her kit near to the evidence Cheryl had piled up. 'It looks like our vic, or his killer, entered through the kitchen window. I got a few partials.'

'I got footprints,' added Greg, holding up his evidence.

'Well done, Greg,' Sara said, with something that sounded like sarcasm in her voice, again. 'Just load up the truck, okay.' She swept out leaving Cheryl and Greg staring at the pile of evidence.

'Funner, eh?' Grumbled Cheryl, as she and Greg gathered up the evidence and proceeded to make the several trips needed to load it into the trunk. When the evidence was firmly secured, and the coroners van had left with the decomposing slop, Cheryl turned her attention to Eddie. She pulled a sheet of paper from her pocket and looked at the address on it.

'So, what's your address?' Greg asked her.

'14507 Nevada Way.'

'Well, we're on Nevada Way.' Greg told her, shining his torch on the mailbox across the road.

'Great.' Grumbled Cheryl, 'I'd best not be able to smell that sodding decomp from my house.'

'What's grass got to do with anything?'

'What did you say the number was?' Sara interrupted.

'14507.'

'Sorry to tell you this, but you are definitely going to be able to smell that decomp.' Sara told her, a slight smile on her face.

'Please don't tell me that I live next to it.'

'Nope, you live in it.' She shone her torch on the crooked mailbox, the metallic numbers glinting back at her.

Cheryl looked down at the paper, then to the mailbox. Then she kicked it, cursing loudly, firstly at the situation, then at the pain in her foot.


	3. Chapter 3

**So, thank you for continuing to read - I'm assuming you're liking it! I do believe it's time for some other characters now!**

* * *

Nick and Catherine arrived at their own crime scene. A body just off the strip, near McDonalds.

'Hi guys,' Said Detective Brass, as he walked over to the two criminalists who were ducking under the crime tape.

'Hi Jim,' Said Catherine, as she flicked her hair over her shoulder. 'What do you have for us?'

'Vic was found by a couple of hookers, just getting off a job a couple of hours ago. David's on his way over from another body. Called to say he'd be about ten minutes.'

'Any witnesses?' Asked Nick.

'Body was already there when the ladies found him, no cameras anywhere on this part of the strip.'

'Nothing from McDonalds?'

'Just the Big Mac wrappers in the gutter over there.' Brass told him, pointing to the many papers and boxes thatwere littering the grass and sand that was the crime scene.

Catherine looked over at Nick.

'Oh, come on, you can't be serious!'

'They're evidence on the crime scene, Nicky. They have to be collected.'

'I know that, but isn't it your turn to collect the trash.'

Catherine merely pulled a face before she headed over to the body and started taking photographs. Nick turned to Jim, who shrugged at him and wandered back over to the two hookers who were still being questioned by some uniformed police. Nick sighed and started taking photos of the incriminating pieces of trash, before bagging them.

After a while, he finally turned his attention to the last piece of trash. A white Styrofoam cup. Nick froze. The hairs on the back of his neck stood upright, as he broke out into a cold sweat. He quickly glanced over his shoulder. Catherine was busy taking pictures of some form of print or tread in the sandy ground next to her.

He dropped the camera and let the strap catch around his neck. 'Get it together, Nick,' he told himself. 'We're past this.' Grabbing one hand with the other he took a deep breath, waiting for his shakes to disappear.

'You finished over there, Nick?' Catherine called over to him.

'Huh?' He shouted back, 'yeah, last piece over here.'

'Good. David's here.' She told him, pointing to the coroner's van that had just pulled over.

He took a picture of the cup and picked it up for a closer examination. It had blood splatter across the outside, and, the bottom was missing. He shone his torch over it and picked up on the small black particles on the inside. To confirm his findings, he pulled two q-tips from his kit and rubbed one across the outside, and one across the outside, before testing for GSR and blood. Both tests were positive.

'What've you got?' Catherine asked him as he wandered over to her and David, who had just started processing the body.

'Hi, David,' said Nick, before holding up the evidence bag with the Styrofoam cup. 'Poor man's silencer.'

'Ugh, they're getting cheaper and cheaper.' Muttered Catherine. 'What can you tell us, David?'

David looked up at them. 'One bullet wound entered the heart; through-and-through. Liver temp puts TOD at about four hours ago, and lavidity has set in,' he told them, as he pulled the body off the floor to show the lavidity in the back.

'The amount of blood indicates he was shot here.' Said Nick, more to himself than to the others, 'which means it wasn't a body dump.'

'Well someone had to see something.' Said Catherine.

'I got the drive-thru tapes from the McDonalds manager,' Jim told them, as he joined them, a couple of tapes in his hand.

Catherine nodded, 'I think we're done here.'

--------------------------

'So how long did you know we were getting a new CSI, Gris?' Warrick asked his superior as the both alighted from their vehicle.

'Just over a week.'

'And you didn't tell us? Man!' Exclaimed Warrick. 'I can't believe Ecklie managed to get her here on the department's budget. I thought he was going to have to make some job cuts?'

'Ecklie would have sold his child's soul to have the person who was the brains behind the last forensic procedural breakthrough. Anything to make the department look good.'

'Do you think she's that good?'

'I don't know,' Grissom said simply.

'Hey, Grissom, Warrick.'

'Detective Vartann! Long time, no see.'

'Yeah, just got back from paternity leave.' The detective told him as they walked into the house.

'How's fatherhood working out for you?' Warrick asked him.

'It's great. No sleep, but, oh, just you wait, Warrick, you'll be there soon.'

Warrick chuckled, 'I'mjust out ofthe honeymoon period. There'll be no babies coming my way for a while.' He wrinkled up his nose, 'you didn't say anything about a decomp,' he complained, turning to Grissom.

'I wasn't _told_ there was a decomp.' He replied, whilst looking over at Vartann.

'That's because there isn't one,' he told them, leading them into what could have been the bedroom – the house was empty of all furniture. 'But I think there is one somewhere,' he pointed to a large blood stain on the floor, with several lumps of decaying grey matter amongst it: the source of the smell.

'There is no way we can age that, is there?' Warrick asked.

'No,' confirmed Grissom. He bent down and picked something off the ground. 'But this little fellow can,' he held up a small bug with a pair of tweezers.

'Who is the owner of the house?'

Vartann opened up his notebook and glanced down at his black, scrawling handwriting. 'Owner is a Joe Sailes. The house has been on the market for the past three months. He's currently retiring in Europe. Got off the phone with him a few minutes ago. Wasn't too happy at being called up in the middle of the night.'

'So who reported the break-in?'

'Neighbours reported a strange smell, called it in. The officer who came around noticed the smell, called in homicide. I came out, found the back door ajar. Looks like someone came at it with a foot.' He told them as he led them to the incriminating door.

Warrick pulled out a measure from his kit and held it up to the footprint on the door. 'Look's like a size 11.' He looked over at Grissom, who was shining his light on something. 'What you got there?'

Grissom bent over and picked up something with his tweezers and turned to show it to Warrick. It was a small sliver of something blue. 'I'm not sure,' Grissom told him, 'looks like either plastic or rubber.'

'There doesn't appear to be anything which matches that in here.' He shone his torch around, the beam of light highlighting the particles of dust which had been disturbed and were floating in the air. 'I don't think there's anything here: no fingerprints or footprints in the dust, just a few bugs, some blood, a bit of blue, and one footprint.'

'Warrick, you know as well as I do that sometimes all it takes is one piece of evidence to break a case.'

'I know, Gris. I was just pointing out that we weren't going to be here long.'

-----------------------

Cheryl let out a sigh. They had finally disposed of the decomp in the ME's office, and all the evidence had been secured, which meant one thing – they would all be able to finally have a shower. She went outside to her Hummer and grabbed a bag from the back seat. The bag contained a towel, her wash things, and _several_ items of clothing. If there was one thing she always managed to do, it was destroy at least one item of clothing on a weekly basis. Destroying her house was another thing altogether.

She returned to the building, aware of the wrinkled up noses, and the strange looks she was getting (Eddie was following her around, practically attached to her heals) and headed back to the break room, where Sara said she would be. Thus far, the only rooms she knew for definite, were the break room, reception and the room with the temporary evidence locker. Sara was there, pulling out some lemons from the fridge. 'Hey, I have this wash care line with me, which removes the smell of anything, if you want to use that, instead,' Cheryl offered her.

Sara smirked, 'nothing removes the smell of decomp.'

Thinking of her house, Cheryl wanted to punch her. Instead she tried again. 'No, really, I-'

'No, thank you. I'll stick with what works. The shower and locker room is back that way,' she told her, before returning her attention to the lemons.

Cheryl shrugged. Her loss. 'Does it matter what locker I take?'

'There's one with an unlocked lock on it. Default combination is 12345. You might want to change that.'

Biting her tongue from saying anything sarcastic to that comment, Cheryl turned and left, following Sara's directions to the locker room. Sure enough, there was an empty one right at the end of the room, near the doorway to the showers.

She opened the door and began unpacking her things, before finally stripping off. She flung her clothes into a pile, (which Eddie promptly jumped in, curled up into a ball, and went back to sleep, ignoring the stench which was radiating from them), with the exception of her underwear. Even though she knew the stench of death would never come out of them, she was reluctant to take them off. They were one of her favourite sets, albeit, they were inappropriate for work, being as they were the fancy kind from Victoria's Secrets, and even though she knew wearing them was tempting fate, there was something about sexy underwear that gives you confidence, even if no-one else could see them.

She was about to slip out of the French knickers when the door behind her opened. When it didn't close, she turned around and screamed. Her face, and Greg's face was now a very similar colour to her scarlet underwear. She grabbed her towel and wrapped it around her, as Greg looked down at the floor.

'Sorry,' he told her.

'What are you doing in here?' She screeched.

'I need a shower.'

'Shouldn't you be in the men's locker room?'

'This is the men's locker room,' he told her as he practically ran over to his locker, 'and it's the ladies locker room too. It's unisex.'

Cheryl shut her eyes and let her head slam against the next locker. 'Figures,' she muttered, into the locker door. 'When you said Sara was funner, I didn't think you meant the practical joker type. I would have put that one more on you.'

'You know, there are changing cubicles attached to the showers.' He told her as began pulling his wash thing out of the locker, including a handful of lemons. 'You need to borrow a lemon?'

'No, I got a shower gel, thanks.' She told him, still talking into her locker. 'You're more than welcome to use it.'

'Cheryl, the best thing to get arid of the smell of decomposing bodies is lemons.'

Cheryl reached into the back of her locker and pulled out an unused bottle of gel, 'try this,' she said, flinging it at him. As he caught it, the door to the room opened and Sara walked in.

'I see you found it alright.'

'Yeah.'

'You know, it's a unisex locker room? There are changing cubicles with the showers.'

Cheryl looked at her, trying to decide whether or not she had genuinely forgotten to mention that fact earlier. And then she caught the smirk. It was entirely plausible that the smirk was because she had just figured it out, but then again, it could have been because her plan had worked. Choosing the latter, she smiled at Sara, picked up her wash bag, before flinging her towel over her shoulder and walked to the showers in her underwear, 'I know there are,' she called over her shoulder, 'but I'm an exhibitionist.'

She walked straight into the shower, barely stopping to dump her things and remove her underwear, turning on the water as hot as she could take it. She leant forward until her head was resting against the tiles which were icy cold in contrast.

Why, oh why did she just do that? Normally she was quite reserved, especially when it came to walking around with little underwear on. Even with clothes on, she didn't like 'acting' in front of people. It was why she took a job behind the scenes. And Greg? She was never going to be able to look at the poor guy again. As for Sara, if the woman didn't like her to start off with, she probably wouldn't do now. As she had no intention of leaving her job, she would have to apologise, because, otherwise, working here could get uncomfortable.

When her skin had turned a bright pink, she got out of the shower, dressed and headed back into the locker room. Thankfully, Greg was the one still in the shower, because when she dumped her old clothes in the trash can, Sara was the only other person in the room. Temporarily ignoring her, Cheryl turned her attention to her reflection. As Sara was making impatient noises behind her, she decided that messing with her hair was probably not a good idea and allowed the wet ringlets to hang down her back. She turned back to Sara and waited patiently.

Sara frowned at her. 'You don't smell of lemons.'

'That's because I didn't use any.'

'But you smell… clean.'

_Well, I did offer to let you use the shower gel too, but you're just too stubborn to admit you may be wrong_, she thought. 'What would you like me to do now?' She asked her instead.

'We're going to the ME's office to see if they've managed to establish a cause of death, or time of death. I'll meet you down there. There's something I have to do first.'

'Alright,' said Cheryl, as she moved to the door, 'um,' she stopped, 'where is the ME's office?'

Sara rolled her eyes and reeled of the directions quickly. 'And it's the last door on the,' she paused, 'the last door on the left.'

'You sound sure.' Cheryl muttered as she left, wondering where it was Sara was sending her, a bar of her soap still in her hand, and Eddie close at her heels.


	4. Chapter 4

Nick sat down at a table and pulled out the evidence he had collected. He sat staring at the Styrofoam cup. It was obviously an important piece of evidence, and clearly needed processing first. But there was something about seeing the cup in an evidence bag that was making him feel nauseous and his hands were starting to shake again. He held them out in front of him, watching them bounce around in the air against his will. _This is stupid. It's a piece of trash. What exactly was it going to do? Jump up and hit him around the side of the head? And it wasn't like anything was going to happen. Both the Gordons are dead. Dead and gone. So why was he still getting nervous about a piece of plastic?_

He blinked, suddenly aware that he had been staring at his shaking hands for longer than what was necessary. He dropped them to the table and glanced up. Stood at the window, gazing in was the new girl, Cheryl. She caught him staring at her and went bright red before dashing off down the corridor. He blinked again. He was imagining things,he was sure he had seen a duck chasing after her.

Nickgroaned and pulled on a pair of gloves. The one person so far who wasn't acting strange around him was now going to think he was weird. _Ah well, may as well add her to the list_. Everyone still acted strange around him. Nobody ever said anything, at least not to him, but that didn't stop him from catching the worried glances. Catherine was the worst, trying to mother him all the time, whilst making it seem like nothing. He hardly had a day off go by without either Warrick or Greg, usually Greg because of Warrick's commitments to his wife, calling around. And Grissom was being clever about it. Sure, he let Nick work solo on cases, but the cases were usually straightforward and rarely involved anything more than an assault.

Nick looked up. He could have sworn he heard someone singing.

'_Cause I saddle up my horse  
__and I ride into the city  
__I make a lot of noise  
__Cause the girls  
__They are so pretty  
__Riding up and down Broadway  
__on my old stud Leroy  
__And the girls say  
__Save a horse, ride a cowboy.  
__Everybody says  
__Save a horse, Ride a cowboy'_

He looked around. Either he was going mad, or the evidence locker was singing at him. Of course, it was entirely possibly he was going mad – he had just seen a duck in the crime lab, but he decided that instead of simply assuming that, he would see what piece of evidence was singing. He pulled open the door and the music got louder. _Good, I'm not imagining things. Well, I'm not imagining _some_ things._ He pulled out one of the front boxes. In amongst the bags of evidence was a cell phone. It stopped ringing as he picked it up.

Well, thus far, he had met only one other person who had that song as their ring tone, and as he had been the other one, it could only belong to Cheryl. He put the rest of the evidence back in the locker and set off to track the owner down.

The first person he ran into was Greg, his blonde hair wet and sticking up. Which was now an unusual sight for him. 'Changed your hairstyle again?'

Greg, who was busy reading something in a file looked up at him, 'yeah, I think the spikes look better.'

'I thought the new you was _more reserved and wanted to look appropriate for your promotion_?'

'Yeah, but that's boring, and makes me look old.'

Nick laughed, 'does that mean you're going to start wearing those loud t-shirts again?'

'No, I think the shirt and jacket makes me look more sophisticated.'

'Sophisticated? What has gotten in to you?' He laughed again. 'Look, have you seen Cheryl?'

'Seen her? What have you heard? I haven't seen anything!'

Nick looked at his flustered friend, 'Greg, I thought you two were working on the same case?'

'Oh, yeah. That. I mean, yeah, her.' Greg stammered.

'Why, what did you think I meant, Greggo?' He asked him, as he draped his arm around his shoulder. 'Or is there something you're not telling me? Have you hooked up with the new girl already?' Nick stopped and sniffed. 'I heard you had a decomp? How come you don't smell of lemons or… anything?'

'Cheryl's shower gel.' He muttered, turning red.

'Cheryl's shower gel?' Nick repeated looking at Greg's red face, 'what did you two do? Share a shower?'

'No!' Cried Greg, brushing Nick's arm off him. He started to hurry off down the corridor muttering as he went, 'Hodges. Hodges in a bikini. Hodges in a skimpy bikini.'

Nick watched him go. Greg was shaking his head violently as he muttered to himself. 'Okay,' he said to aloud, 'I guess it's not me who's losing their mind these days.'

He continued to walk down the corridor. Still not finding Cheryl, despite the phone going off a few more times, he decided to find Sara. Sara was easy to find, sat with Bobby in the Balistics Lab.

'Sara, have you seen Cheryl?'

Sara glanced at her watch then up at Nick. 'She's probably still cooling off.'

'Cooling off? Have you been arguing with her already?'

'No, Nick. And I meant cooling off temperature wise.'

'What did you do? Send her to a fridge?' He watched the grin on Sara's face grow, 'Oh, Sara, please tell me you didn't.'

'Relax. She's probably just lost in the Morgue.'

'Sara, you sent her to the over-flow room, didn't you.'

'Yeah, and so what?'

'So what?'

'The last new person who got sent to that room was Holly Gibbs. And look what happened to her.'

'Firstly Nick, I didn't send Holly to that room, I hadn't even transferred here yet. Secondly, Holly died because she was left unattended at a crime scene, not because she was trapped in a room. And thirdly, the lock on that door got fixed ages ago.'

'Yeah, it did,' Nick told her as he hurried out of the room, 'but me and Warrick bust the lock to lock Greg in the room ages ago,' he shouted over his shoulder to her.

----------------------------------

Cheryl sat down on one of the gurneys and sighed. It was going to be a long day. She had been expecting a prank of some description: back in Miami it had happened a little later, being as she had been shot on her first day. Delko had sent her into the garage for a 'long stand'… she'd been in there for over an hour looking for it, until Calleigh had come in and taken pity on her. Admittedly, she had gotten her revenge, when she asked him to nip to the store and buy her a left handed biro.

She had thought that the trick Sara had pulled on her about the locker room would have been enough, but clearly not. This however, was not funny. In fact, it was cruel. If she was claustrophobic, she would have been hysterical.

She was beginning to think that Sara was, well, a bit of a bitch. Sure, Greg had said she used to be fun, but this wasn't fun. She was trapped in a room, with a door that wouldn't open, with several dead bodies, and, no phone. Because, again she had done something with it. Like clothes, she went through cell phones on a regular basis too.

After drumming her fingers against the cold steel, she decided that she wasn't going to let Sara win, this was war. She glanced down at Eddie. He was curled up at her feet, asleep again. She wrinkled up her nose. The smell of death that was following her around was Eddie. Served her right for letting him curl up in her dirty clothes. She looked down at the bar of soap. There was only one thing to do in this situation. Give him a bath.

Several minutes later, Eddie was splashing around in one of the sinks, covered in suds, loving it. She rinsed him off and then let him continue to splash around in the water. She was soaked again, but she wasn't bothered. Although it was pretty cold in there. She sighed, wondering what she could do to occupy her time now.

So she did the only thing she could do; she started singing the first song that came to mind, which was _Eye of the Tiger_. She was getting quite into it, dancing along, pretending she was Rocky, that she didn't notice someone standing in the doorway, a large grin emerging across his face, until she had finished the song.

'Nice voice,' he told her, amusement lining his Texan accent.

'How long have you been there?' She asked, feeling her face grow hot. It shouldn't really, considering she did embarrassing things like this in the Miami Crime Lab. She even done it when she was in the NYPD, and that had been a very embarrassing experience, involving paperwork, a busy precinct, and a Diana Ross song. Oh well, they would have to learn this about her at some point.

'Long enough to get some interesting video,' he told her, holding up his phone.

'Send it to the papers in Miami,' she said, darkly, 'they'll pay a fortune for it.' She started to walk past him and out into the corridor.

'Hey, I mean nothing by it,' he said, hurrying after her.

Cheryl sighed, 'sorry, I'm not having the best of first days.'

'Yeah, sorry about that earlier,' he apologised, 'we weren't expecting a new person on the team, and then I heard you had a decomp.'

'Yeah, a decomp at my own house! I only found out because I was trying to drop Eddie off.' She told him.

'Eddie?' Exclaimed Nick, with a look of surprise on his face. 'You're married?' Cheryl smiled and shook her head, holding up her hand to show the lack of ring. 'Oh,' he continued, 'is Eddie your son?'

Cheryl smiled and shook her head again before heading for the door. 'This is Eddie.'

'I wasn't seeing things.' He glanced at her, 'do you normally bring a pet to work?'

'Yes. I have attachment issues.' She replied, deadpan.She pulled a face, 'he's here because my house is a crime scene.'

'Hang on, did you just say that your house had a dead, decomposing body in it.'

Cheryl nodded, 'I'd invite you around, but it's so hard to get the smell of death out of the woodwork.'

He stopped and sniffed her, 'how is it you and Greg don't smell of death, but Sara does? Greg mentioned something about shower gel.'

Cheryl grinned, 'what can I say? I have the best body wash.' She looked at Nick's raised eyebrow, 'oh, no, I lent him the body wash,' she quickly added, 'we took separate showers.'

'Uh huh,' he said, a grin reappearing on his face, 'and why did you and Greg both go bright red at that comment?'

'Because someone neglected to mention that they were mixed changing rooms,' she told him, her face screwed up in embarrassment.

Nick laughed, 'so that's why Greggo has a strange grin on his face.'

Cheryl shoved him, playfully, 'hey!' She poked her tongue out at him.

'Or maybe it's because he's finally met someone with the same mental age as him. So how come you were locked in there, then?'

'Probably because Sara smells like death, and me and Greg don't. I offered the body wash to her too, and she refused. How did you know I was in there?'

'Save a horse, ride a cowboy,' his eyes twinkled at her.

'Hold your horses, there, cowboy!' Exclaimed Cheryl.

Nick held up her Nokia, 'it was ringing for ages. I thought I would return this to you, but you weren't about. Sara said to try down here.'

'Oh,' blushed Cheryl, 'sorry.' She took the phone off him, 'thank you.' She looked at the missed calls and laughed, 'looks like Horatio still can't find his shades.' She chuckled, 'could you do me a favour and send me in the direction of the Sara?'

'She's in the Ballistics lab.'

'And where would I find that?'

'It's through those doors down there, and on your left.' He told her, pointing down a corridor.

'Right, and if I actually follow those directions, will they get me there?'

'Come on, if I was going to pull a prank on you, I'm not going to do the same one minutes after it was played on you the first time round.'

'So does that mean I should expect an initiation prank off you too?' She asked him, grabbing the wet goose and putting him down by here feet.

Nick grinned at her. 'Through those doors and on your left.' He repeated instead.

'Cheers,' she started off down the corridor.

'Hey, Rocky,' Nick shouted after her.

Cheryl turned and looked back at him, 'yeah?'

'Take it easy on those horses.'

Cheryl rolled her eyes at him, before heading off in the direction he had pointed, Eddie following her, like the faithfully puppy.


	5. Chapter 5

_Cassandra - You found me! Yay! Thank you for the review, and I'm happy that you're still reading_. _Cheryl's not going to forget where she came from in a hurry - which is why I can't see her getting with Nick... although I could be persuaded._

**Just a reminder, CSI and all characters - not mine. Cheryl and Simon are though... and Eddie - he's mine too!**

* * *

Cheryl found Sara in the hallway talking to Greg and walked over to the two. 'So, did we establish a cause of death?'

'You couldn't make it to the autopsy?' Sara asked her.

'No, I had to wash Eddie,' Cheryl told her, pointing down at her feet, 'he smelt of decomp. And that's not a nice thing to smell like.' She finished, knowing perfectly well from the look on Sara's face that the 'tour' had been intentional, and that she smelt like lemony death.

Sara scowled at her. 'I don't think washing a duck is a priority when there is a murderer at large.'

'He's a goose. And I wanted a clean _goose_ following me around. Not a bad smell,' she glared back at her.

Greg looked blankly between the two of them. 'Have I missed something?'

'Are you implying something?' Sara asked her.

'May I ask why there is a gosling in the crime lab?'

The three CSIs turned around to find Grissom behind them. Cheryl sighed. 'Sorry, sir. It turns out the last resident in my new home was a decomposing body. So I have no home, and nowhere for Eddie to go. But he's good. He'll just fall asleep,' she glanced down, 'like he is doing now. He's not normally like this, but I think my music kept him up on the drive here. Although he did seem to be singing along to the music. Of course, that could have been goose talk for "turn it off, I'm trying to sleep".'

Grissom started to say something, then stopped. He tried again, 'so the DB was at your house?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Don't call me sir.'

'Yes ma'am.' Cheryl said, before she'd realised it was coming out of her mouth.

Grissom frowned, 'Grissom will do,' he told her, before shooting a look at Greg, who was staring at them with his mouth open. 'I'm not sure if I want to know the answer to this, but you're not related to Greg, are you?'

'Huh?'

'Never mind.' He said, shaking his head and walking off.

'Why would I be related to you?' She asked Greg.

'Because you two seem to have the same mental age.' Sara told her before Greg could answer. 'COD was a gunshot wound. Probably caused by the bullet we found in the bathtub, but if you'd have made it to the ME's office, you would have known that. And I've just come from ballistics. Bobby is running the bullet through IBIS now, but it came from a semi automatic handgun, most likely a glock. I'm going back there now to follow up, if you need me.' She told them, turning on her heel and marching off down the hall.

Cheryl stared blankly after her, wondering what to say first: _who's fault is it I didn't make it to the ME's office? _We _found the bullet – who stuck their arm in that gunk? And the same mental age? What was _she _implying?_ She settled for a simple, 'huh?'

Greg was staring at her in awe, 'you… I… Grissom… I,' he stuttered.

Cheryl stared blankly at him, 'huh?' She repeated. Two degrees and the best she could come up with was _huh_? Very articulate.

'What's got you all flustered, Greggo?' Cheryl looked up to find Nick clapping his hand on his back.

'Cheryl,' he spluttered.

Nick raised an eyebrow in Cheryl's direction, who shrugged back at him, 'she been stripping off again?'

'Yeah,' Cheryl told him, 'I have a habit of stripping off in the middle of corridors. You should try it some time. Both of you. I don't think there would be many objections.'

'I don't think this department works on a case of _I'll show you mine if you show me yours._'

A sly grin spread across Cheryl's face, 'who said anything about showing you mine?'

'You called Grissom, Ma'am.' Greg finally blurted out.

'You what?' Nick asked her.

'I didn't mean to.' Cheryl said, 'do you think I should go apologise?'

'You got away with it!' Greg exclaimed, his voice raising in pitch slightly.

'Congratulations,' Nick told her, patting her on the back, 'you managed to accomplish something Greg here has been trying to do for years.' He walked off, continuing in the direction that he had been heading.

Cheryl stared after him, before turning back to Greg, who was still gaping at her. 'You gonna stand there all day catching flies, or do you want to show me where the DNA lab is so we can drop the hairs off?'

Greg blinked and shook his head, 'you are my new hero.'

'Being smart with the boss puts me at hero status?'

Greg nodded, 'it does in my books.'

'You need to get out more.' She leant over and grabbed the two yellow envelopes he was holding on to, containing the hairs they had found at the crime scene. 'I'll find it on my own, shall I?'

'Oh, it's this way.' He told her, walking down the corridor.

He led her to the room she had passed earlier. She was right – it was the DNA lab. DNA, not her most favourite part of the job, but it was still fun, nevertheless. They were greeted by a guy who, to Cheryl, looked like what she would expect Harry Potter to look like when he hit his thirties; wild, black hair, green eyes, glasses, and a bit of stubble.

'Cheryl Carter!' He exclaimed, as soon as he clamped eyes on her.

Cheryl stared blankly at him, trying to put a name to a face. 'Have we met?'

The lab tech looked a little hurt, 'it's me. Simon Hunter. We worked together on a case once.'

Cheryl shook her head, 'this is my first day here.'

'Oh, no, it was back in Miami. I did the DNA on the Kings case. Valera was snowed under with the DNA from the Lopez case Detective Caine was working on.'

The Lopez case was a triple homicide case from a few months ago. Someone had broken into the Lopez's house and murdered the three children whilst the mother was asleep, before going for the mother. There had been blood everywhere. It turned out the husband had killed them when he found out he was infertile and couldn't possibly have been the father. It had been a big case and with all the blood, Valera had been working all hours under the sun. As for the Kings case, that had been a case of stolen identity, and she had been busy trying to keep an irate executive from tracking down his impostor. She had been so caught up, it was highly possible that they had worked together, and the chances were he'd been called in from the night shift to cover.

'Yeah, I remember, I'm sorry.' She told him, even though she really had no clue, 'you look different though,' she indicated vaguely to her face.'

'I grew the stubble,' he told her, his face lighting up in delight, 'I knew you would notice.'

'Anyway, Simon, we've got to get back to the case, you know how it is. Will you process these for me?' She handed over the envelopes, 'just page one of us when they're ready.'

'For you, anything. I'll get started on them now.' He took them off her and placed them on the side. 'It's nice working with you again.'

Cheryl smiled at him and walked out of the lab, faster than she'd walked in.

'You have no idea who he is, do you?' Greg asked her.

'Not a clue.' She told him, 'but I know about the cases he was talking about, so I probably did work with him. How long has he been here?'

'Only a couple of weeks. We don't seem to be able to keep anyone in DNA very long, these days. He's replaced Wendy, who's on maternity leave. She replaced Mia, who's on sabbatical, and Mia replaced Chandra, who replaced me.'

'You used to work DNA? What made you want to be a CSI?'

Greg sighed, 'lots of reasons. It's a long story. I'm going to start running those shoe prints. You know where you're going?'

Cheryl nodded, 'yeah, I'm going to stick Eddie in the break room, and then I'm going to see if I can work out who the teeth belong to.'

'Oh, David said he'd done impressions and put them up for the local dentist to identify, but so far no one's said anything.'

'Cheers, Greg.' She headed to the break room. It was empty. Eddie, who had been following her the whole time, instantly jumped up into the corner of the couch and curled up. 'You are one lazy gosling.' Cheryl muttered to him, before leaving the room and heading to the trace lab, via the evidence locker.

--------------------------------------

'So, you upset Sara, eh?'

'Excuse me?' Cheryl looked blankly at the trace technician in front of her.

'She sent you to the only room in the morgue that doesn't open from the inside. The last person who ended up in there, ended up dead.'

'Huh?' She was glad to see her articulacy had remained.

'Some newbie. Before my time.'

'Ok, then,' Cheryl shook her head, about to change the subject, but he stopped her.

'Don't worry about it. You're on one messed up team.'

'Huh?' The man was beginning to bug her.

'Well, one of them got buried alive, one is a gambler, who married a woman he had known for all of a month. One is related to Sam Braun, who is probably the guy with the most power in this city. Another is obsessed with bugs, and I swear, is slightly autistic. One of the detectives is a cop killer, and the other is an ex-CSI who couldn't handle it. The other CSI used to be the biggest joker here, but now is boring, and continually trying to prove himself to everybody. So Sara being just plain psychotic, that's no big deal. In fact, other than yours truly, everyone should be institutionalised, or something.'

'Excellent, because I am a twenty-three year old who has had no life because all I've ever done is learn and work,' said Cheryl. 'I have been shot four times in the line of duty, one of those times was by my own colleague, I can tell you what the car is, from anything as small as the engine sound, and I have had to have anger management courses because I have hit medics and doctors for coming within a metre of me with a needle. And, oh yeah, I sing out loud, far too loudly, to whatever music is on my mp3 player at the time. So I guess my weirdness will fit right in. Now, can you please tell me what the sodding teeth are made from.'

A round of applause startled both Cheryl and the trace guy, who were both glaring at each other. Cheryl turned around to find Warrick in the lab doorway, 'I'm impressed,' said Warrick, 'most people don't talk back to Hodges like that. Is he giving you any problems?'

Cheryl shook her head.

'Excuse me, but why am I always made out to be the bad guy?' Whined Hodges.

'After that lovely description of the grave yard shift, what do you expect?' Said Warrick, he turned to Cheryl, 'we're not that bad, you know.'

'Oh,' said Cheryl, 'because I pretty much am.'

Warrick smiled, 'you might just fit in here.'

Cheryl gave a small smile back, before turning back to Hodges. 'So, is it just Hodges, or do you have a first name?'

'It's David.' He told her shortly.

'Okay, David.' She sighed, 'I'm sorry for that outburst.'

Hodges gaped at her, 'huh?'

The articulacy was catching. 'I have anger issues, apparently. Okay, not apparently. I do have them. As you just witnessed. But, yeah, anger issues. I don't control my temper very well. It's either the redhead in me coming out, or the Irish. And now I'm rambling, which is something else I seem to be doing recently. I think it's a nervous habit.' She looked over at his lost expression, 'I tell you what, just tell me what the teeth are made of, and I'll be going.'

'You're not a natural blonde?'

'Out of all of that, the only thing you picked up on is that I dye my hair? I guess I do talk too much. Teeth, David, please.'

David closed his mouth and whipped around to the paper on the table. 'You're teeth are made from platinum, with diamonds and sapphires. It's solid platinum, too. Pretty expensive teeth.'

'Thank you,' said Cheryl, taking the sheet of paper and teeth off him, and leaving the room.

Hodges turned to Warrick, 'is she old enough to be working here?'

'You make the best first impression, you know that.'

'I was only trying to introduce myself.'

'By telling the new girl about everyone else _apart_ from yourself. Smooth, Hodges. You should be thankful I didn't catch what you said about me.'

Hodges glared at him, then grabbed another sheet of paper. 'The mystery blue material was latex.' He told him, before thrusting the paper into Warrick's hands.

Warrick took it without a word and left the trace lab, glancing at his watch. It was getting close to the time when the sun came up. Coffee was what he needed. He headed there, expecting it to be empty, but instead found Catherine in there… holding a… duck? 'Cath, what _are_ you doing?' He asked her.

'Oh, Warrick, isn't he cute?'

'Where did it come from?' He asked, heading towards the coffee pot and pouring himself a mug. 'Want some?' He asked, holding the pot up.

'I'm fine, thanks. I don't know where he came from, but he's so cute.'

Warrick came around so he was stood in front of Catherine. He glanced down at her watching her cradle the bird.

Catherine looked up and caught him staring, 'what?'

'You still have the maternal instincts going.'

Catherine groaned, 'I don't think so. Lindsay is beginning to be unreasonable. She's threatening to go out and get her navel pierced. Why would she want to do that to herself?'

'She's a teenager, Cath. She's rebelling. It's what they do.' He sat down next to her, 'you want me to have a word?'

'No, it's alright,' Catherine told him, shaking her head. 'I'm not at that stage yet.'

'You know, if you ever need me, I'll be there to help.'

Catherine looked over at him, removing her attention from the gosling, which seemed to be doing a very good job of imitating a cat purring, and looked over at Warrick. He wouldn't look up from his coffee and meet her eyes. 'Are you?' She asked him softly.

Warrick finally turned to face her, looking like he was going to tell her something, but he was prevented from doing so by Grissom, 'ah, here you are, Warrick.'

Catherine bit her lip and looked away. _Typical_ – _Grissom couldn't get his timing right even if someone was stood there with a stopwatch and telling him when to do things. Unless it involved his beloved bugs._ She was incredibly tempted to say something about it, but the moment was lost anyway. 'Any idea where the walking pillow came from?'

'It's Cheryl's.' Grissom told her, 'she turned up at her crime scene this morning to find out it was her house.'

Catherine and Warrick's mouths dropped open in unison. 'Damn, that's unlucky,' winced Warrick. 'She's not a suspect is she?'

'The dead body was a decomp. She was still in Miami when he was killed.'

'A decomp!' Exclaimed Catherine, 'the smell won't come out for months. What is she planning to do?' Her mother mode was setting in. The poor girl would have to sell it.

'I don't know,' said Grissom, 'it never came up.'

_Yep, that was Grissom, completely oblivious to things like that._ Catherine sighed; she would have to have a chat with her later. Not that it would be possible for her to stay at hers as her mother was there, but she could find somewhere for the girl.

'What have you found out about the blue material?' Grissom asked Warrick.

Warrick looked over at Catherine and smiled, before getting up and following Grissom out of the door. 'It's latex, according to Hodges, who, by the way, needs a personality transplant.'

'David is just being David,' said Grissom, trying to be diplomatic.

'It doesn't stop him needing that transplant.' Warrick muttered. He looked over at Grissom, expecting a comment to be made, but Grissom was frowning in thought, 'you okay, Gris?' He took a sip of his coffee.

'_I Touch Myself_.' Grissom told him.

Warrick spit his coffee out, 'I beg your pardon?'

Grissom looked at Warrick, noticing the coffee and frowned, but pointed down the corridor, '_I Touch Myself_, by the Divinyals.'

Warrick stopped and listened. Sure enough, drifting down the corridor was the sound of music, and _I Touch Myself_. 'Please don't ever do that to me again.'

'Do what?' Grissom asked him, genuinely not realising what Warrick was talking about. Warrick merely shook his head in disbelief, as the two men entered the room from which the singing was originating. Cheryl was stood at a table, singing along to the music which was coming through her headphones from her phone. She didn't realise that she was being watched, and started singing along to the next song, which sounded remarkably similar to the stuff Greg used to play in the lab, and therefore nothing like what she had just been singing.

* * *

**Well, thanks for reading, Chapter 6 will be up soon.**


	6. Chapter 6

_Cassandra- thanks for another lovely review! Yeah, the problem Sara has with Cheryl is going to get a lot worse before it gets better - great as Cheryl is, you just can't get along with everyone. I hadn't thought about H coming across, that would be a funny sight, but I don't think he'd be very helpful if he didn't have the super-powers his sunglasses gave him!_

* * *

Cheryl started bobbing her head, something that was uncalled for, considering the artist, Nine Inch Nails. As per usual, her random function on the phone's mp3 player was doing exactly that – being random. Still bopping her head, she pressed the skip button, whilst examining the teeth, and waited for the next song. It came up with _Mardy Bum_ by the Artic Monkeys. _Yup, random!_ But it made her start dancing on the spot. And start singing along.

'_Now then Mardy Bum, I see your frown, and it's like looking down the barrel of a gu-_' she looked up and saw Warrick looking at her with an amused expression on his face, whilst stood next to him was Grissom, looking nothing less than confused.

She whipped her headphones out of her ears, 'hey, sorry!' She winced, 'I have a habit of doing that. I have lots of habits, actually. Most of them small and irritating. Like this. Damn it, I irritate myself.' She frowned, 'never mind.' She switched her attention back to the teeth.

'The last time there was music in the lab was Mia, I think.' Mused Warrick, 'and before that, Greg played it all the time. Albeit, it was pretty much the same genre. You, on the other hand, well.'

'I will listen to anything and everything.' Cheryl finished.

Warrick smiled and headed over to a computer. He sat down and began the process of uploading the shoe print into the computer and running the prints.

Grissom sat down opposite Cheryl and picked up the teeth. He looked over at her, as though he was about to make a profound statement. 'Did you know that George Washington had teeth made out of hippopotamus teeth. He also had teeth made out of ivory, lead, human teeth, and cow and sheep's teeth.'

Cheryl blinked, very useful. 'Did you know that a Chinese dentist had once made a tower out of 28,000 human teeth?'

Warrick chuckled from the other side of the lab, 'she got you on that one, Gris.'

'I am really, really sorry about before. I swear, I'm not normally like that. And Eddie will be gone by the end of the shift.'

'Don't worry about earlier. And keep the gosling out of the labs.'

'Oh, I will. He's staying in the break room. And I can pretty much guarantee the only thing that lazy thing will be doing, is sleeping.'

Grissom smiled and put the teeth back down. 'So, are you really the brains behind the Cocaine Procedure?'

Cheryl nodded her head. 'Did you get the short film?'

'Yes, but it wasn't you doing the demonstration.'

'Nope, that was my colleague back at Miami. I asked her to do it.'

'Why?'

'Because she has an excellent reputation as being one of the leading ballistics experts, and also because a roomful of scientists are going to take her more seriously then me, as I look like a school kid, apparently. And because I hate standing up and talking to people like that.'

'Where did the name for it come from?'

'Believe it or not, it was a computer glitch.' She looked over at Grissom's raised eyebrows and sighed, 'it was supposed to be called the Carter-Caine Procedure, but the computer messed up and called it the c'caine procedure. It stuck as that, and I decided not to bother correcting anyone.'

'Caine? As in Horatio Caine?' Asked Warrick.

'Caine, as in Raymond Caine, Horatio's dead brother.'

'Oh, I'm sorry.'

Cheryl shrugged, 'I never knew him. He died years before I found out he was my dad. In fact, I only found out Horatio was my uncle in this past year. It still seems strange calling him that.'

'You're mother never told you?' Warrick asked her.

'It's a long story, but no. She couldn't get in touch with him, and then she died.' She sighed and glanced down at the teeth.

'Oh, man, I'm sorry. I'm really putting my feet in it today.'

Cheryl shrugged. 'Don't worry about it.' She continued to clean away at the teeth, ignoring the awkwardness that was radiating from Warrick.

'What do you have on the Latex?' Grissom asked the other male, seeming to pick up on the heavy atmosphere, for once.

Warrick was flicking through a database on one of the computers, whilst waiting for the computer to spit out a match on the shoe prints. Latex is used in just about anything. From our gloves, to surgeon's gloves, to bondage suits.'

'Sounds kinky,' muttered Cheryl.

'Out of context, the latex could be anything,' Grissom told Warrick, who was beginning to show signs of frustration, 'see what the shoe print tells you, and the latex may make sense.' He left the room, leafing through a folder of paperwork.

Cheryl looked up from her teeth at Warrick, 'is he normally like that?'

'Like what?'

'Throwing out random bits of information, and comments.'

'Gris? Yeah. 'Fraid so.'

Cheryl smiled, 'he is nothing like Horatio.'

'Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?'

'Not bad, not good. Just different.' She glanced down at the teeth again. Finally, the cleaning had paid off. 'Ah ha!' She exclaimed.

'What you got there?'

Cheryl looked up; Greg was stood opposite her, holding something in a pair of tweezers. 'Greg, I usually wait a little longer before accepting a diamond of a guy. But thanks for the offer,' she told him, referring to the jewel which was glinting back at her.

'You, and Grissom… I don't need any other reason.'

'One thing you're going to realise, is that Greg's sense of humour is a required taste. Much like his dress sense.' Warrick chimed in.

'Fine, Greg, but I'm going to need that set into a ring,' Cheryl laughed. 'I'm guessing that's the missing diamond from my teeth?'

Greg nodded, 'and there's a number on the diamond. I'm running it as we speak. And there is nothing wrong with the way I dress.'

'I got partial numbers on the teeth, the identification from the dentist.' Cheryl sighed and sat back, 'the motive clearly wasn't money.'

'What makes you so sure?'

'I'm not an expert when it comes to jewels, but there has got to be several thousand dollars worth of teeth there. Ok, so, maybe you couldn't sell the diamonds easily, what with the ID number on them, but you could melt the platinum.'

'True,' agreed Greg, 'if you've gone to the trouble to kill someone, it wouldn't take much more to remove the teeth.'

Cheryl nodded and sat down at one of the computers in the lab, before typing the number from the teeth. Minutes later, the computer had kicked out eight possible matches: six from the greater Las Vegas area, one from California, and the other from Indiana. As she printed the results out Sara joined them.

'I ran a check on all 18 to 30 year old African American missing males from the last three months.'

'The vic was of African American dissent?'

'There was enough of the skull left for David to establish the race of the body. And he also aged it from the teeth.'

'Oh, I get that, I just didn't know we had a basic ID on the vic.'

'Yes, well,' said Sara, 'as I was saying, I ran a check through the Missing Persons Database. Nothing.'

'It could be that the vic was from out of state,' suggested Cheryl, handing Sara the freshly printed sheet.

Sara shook her head, 'I have Greg's results here. The diamond was sold from a store here in Vegas.'

'Alright.' Said Cheryl, 'so, we go to the store and see which dentist bought the diamonds?'

Greg nodded, 'sounds like a plan.'

'I'm driving.' Sara stated, before leaving the lab.

Cheryl shrugged, 'I'll meet you outside in a minute,' she told Greg, 'I'm just going to check on Eddie.'

Greg nodded again, and left, Cheryl going the other way. She headed to the break room. Eddie was still fast asleep on the couch. She smiled and headed back the way she came.

---------------------------------

After leaving Cheryl and Greg, Nick walked off down the corridor to where Catherine was waiting for him with Archie in the AV lab. The two had already loaded the first tape and had just started watching it. 'David put TOD at around 7pm, so lets start with the activity around 6 and see if we get anything there,' Catherine was telling Archie.

Archie nodded and set the time frame to 6pm. There was nothing until 7.06pm, when a bunch of rowdy teenagers pulled up, requesting their Big Macs over a loud playing guitar band. 'Razorlight,' muttered Catherine.

'You know Razorlight?' Asked Archie, in astonishment.

'They would be Lindsay's band of the moment.' Catherine told him through gritted teeth. 'I preferred her Backstreet Boys phase.'

Nick chuckled, 'well that one clearly wasn't going to last,' he responded, watching the kids drive off. On another monitor, he saw sound waves being picked up from somewhere off camera, 'hey, Archie, can you isolate and focus in on whatever that sound is?'

Archie nodded. He began performing his usual hi-tech magic and zoomed in onto a piece of the far left hand corner of the screen. Isolating the sound, some loud rap came bursting through the speakers.

'_Like takin from a ho don't know no better, I know that ain't right  
Done seen people killed, done seen people deal  
Done seen people live in poverty with no meals.'_

'What on earth is that obnoxious sound?' Catherine exclaimed.

Nick shrugged, 'you got me.'

'Guys, there's something else in that, listen.' Archie repeated the clip of the song again. Sure enough, after the word _killed_, there was a muffled bang, followed by a different bang.

'Is that first one a gun shot?' Catherine asked.

'It could be part of the song,' said Nick, 'they were just rapping about seeing people killed.'

Archie shook his head and pointed at the other monitor, 'the sound signature is different, and it's definitely not part of the song.'

'Time of death is 7.11.' Said Catherine. 'Is there anything else on there?'

Archie let the tape run. After the second bang, the music dropped in volume, to be replaced by a roaring engine and the squeal of brakes. He replayed it, isolating the sound of the engine. 'Identify the car, and you've got a suspect.'

'How are we going to do that? It could belong to one of a thousand cars.' Exclaimed Catherine.

'A car with a V8 engine. If that helps narrow it down.'

Nick turned around and found Cheryl stood in the doorway, looking like she was considering whether speaking up was a good idea. 'You know engines?'

'I did a mechanical engineering degree. Loved it. I love cars. I probably know too much about them, I spent a few years living and breathing them. I even patented my own engine.'

'You thing you could narrow it down any further than a V8 engine?' Catherine asked her.

Cheryl frowned, 'you're not going to comment on how a girl knows so much about engines?'

'Not if you can identify it,' Catherine told her, putting her arm around her and leading her into the room.

'That's,' Cheryl paused, 'that's refreshingly different.' She looked at Catherine, 'I'm sorry, I'm not normally this bad with names.'

'Catherine. And this is Archie,' she told her, pulling out a seat next to the lab tech and sitting Cheryl down next to him.

Nick watched as Archie rewound the tape to the beginning of clip. Again, their ear drums were assaulted to the sound of rap. He frowned as Cheryl cocked her head. 'What?' He asked her.

'The song. It won an Oscar, the other night. _It's Hard out Here, for a Pimp_, I think. I don't remember who sung it.'

'I think I am more amazed you know that, rather than what car it is.'

'I haven't identified the car yet, and I only know because I was listening to the Oscars as I drove here.' She shut her eyes and listened to the engine rev. 'Can you play it again?' Archie did as she asked, 'I'm going to say it's a Jaguar. And judging from the tinny sound, I'd say an XK. A new one. The engine doesn't sound broken in yet.'

'Are you sure?' Catherine asked her.

'Designer labels, shoes, make-up, all the girly things; not a clue, but engines and cars, yeah.'

'A mechanics expert,' muttered Catherine, 'a female, mechanics expert. Welcome to Vegas.'

Cheryl smiled at the group then excused herself, muttering something about catching up with Sara before she left her behind. Nick returned his attention to Catherine and Archie. 'Can you get us anything else off that?' Nick asked Archie.

'I don't think so. I can try seeing if I can get some reflections, but it's going to take some time.'

'Thanks, Archie,' said Catherine. 'Come on, Nick. We'll see if we can get anything off those prints and come back later.'

--------------------------------

Cheryl found herself once again sat in the back of the truck, although this time, Greg had managed to keep his place in the front. Whilst he was busy flicking through the radio stations, trying to find a tune he liked, Cheryl decided to take the opportunity to return her calls from her uncle. There was only so long she could keep the shades hidden.

'_Caine.'_

'Hi Horatio, it's me.'

'_Cheryl, I have been trying to reach you for a while.'_

'Yeah, sorry; I was busy in the morgue, and didn't have my phone with me, and then I got a little involved with my case. I'm in a car at the moment, but I figured I should call you and let you know where your sunglasses are.'

'_Cheryl, that's not why I've been calling you.'_

Cheryl frowned, 'is everyone alright? Nothing's happened, has it?'

'_That's what I wanted to ask you. I had a phone call a while ago from a detective in Las Vegas. She was trying to track down the owner of your house. There's a dead body?'_

'A bathtub full of decomposing slush is a more accurate description, actually.' She snorted.

There was silence from the other end, but Cheryl knew he was probably just nodding his head, _'I suspected that was the case. I got in touch with my realtor. She thinks she can get you out of the contract, and by lunchtime your time, she should have gotten back to me on some available properties for you.'_

'Horatio, you don't need to be doing that. I can handle it.'

'_Nonsense, Cheryl. I was the one who found that house for you in the first place. The last thing you need to be doing on your first day is trying to find somewhere to live. Leave it to me.'_

'Thank you, Horatio. I appreciate it.'

'_No worries. You just make sure you don't get yourself shot. I don't want another call from Las Vegas bringing me bad news.'_

'I can assure you that I'm not exactly looking out for that one. It's not my fault I'm a walking bullet magnet.'

'_Cheryl.'_

'Seriously, I'm going to be careful.'

'_I'll speak to you later.'_

--------------------------------

Sara watched Cheryl in the rear view mirror as she had her conversation on the phone. Much to Sara's annoyance, Greg was fiddling with the radio that much, that she was only able to catch snippets of the conversation. Cheryl could handle something, and something wasn't her fault. Well, whatever it was, it sounded suspicious. If only Greg would just stop fiddling. 'Greg, quit it!' She snapped at him, finally, hitting the power button.

Greg snatched his hand away and stared at her. Sara glanced back in the mirror. Cheryl had hung up the phone and was looking back at her. She gave her a small smile, but Sara ignored it, returning her attention to the road. Something about this girl wasn't adding up, and she was going to work it out, before the shift was over.

Sara pulled the truck to a stop outside a small jewellery store, pulled the parking brake on, and jumped out of the truck, slamming the door behind her.

'Hi guys.' Sara glanced back. Sofia had appeared and was walking over to the other two who were just getting out of the car. Great - another blonde bimbo, to add to the already infuriating pair.

She let out a small growl of irritation and walked into the store and up to the counter. Thankfully, despite the small size, the store, like the rest of Vegas, operated on a twenty-four hour basis. The sooner she could find out who had bought the diamonds, the sooner they could get back and she could do some research.

* * *

**Well guys and gals, thanks for continuing to read - I hope your enjoying it (feel free to let me know!)  
Keep on reading. There's still a lot more to come. Fresh blood, a confrontation, hopefully a little bit of humor,and more than two 'couples' getting a little closer. I'll be updating soon!**

**Ax**


	7. Chapter 7

_Cassandra - Thanks for another fantastic review! It was Sofia who made the call. I do have plans for H to turn up, but much later on, and not under particularly happy circumstances :s_

* * *

Nick and Catherine had left the AV lab and gone to one of the evidence rooms. Laid out on the table was everything that they had found at the crime scene: the Styrofoam cup, a tire print, a foot print and the clothes the vic had been wearing.

Nick was busy trying to lift any fibres or any other form of trace off the clothes, whilst Catherine was sat at the computer running both sets of prints.

'Well, the tire prints match to a Bridgestone Potenza RE040, which is a tire found commonly on the Jaguar XK. The new girl knows her cars.' Catherine told Nick.

'That's good. Anything on the shoe prints?'

'Other than them being a size eleven, nothing. There's not enough detail for the computer to make a positive match. Are you getting anything off the clothes?'

'No. Just dirt consistent with the dirt we found him in. No hairs, no transfer – nothing.'

Catherine turned back to the computer. 'Well, I'm going to check with the DMV. See how many Jags there are registered in the area. There can't be that many; it's a new model.'

'Hey, Cath?'

'Yeah?'

'Can I asked you a question?' Nick asked her, placing his equipment down on the table.

'Sure, Nicky. What's up?' She got up and wandered over to the table, so they were stood opposite.

'Have you noticed anything different with Sara?'

'No, why?'

'Well, she seems to be playing a lot of pranks on the new girl, from what I can establish.'

'It's a newbie initiation thing. Nothing to be worried about. I'm surprised Greg hasn't played one yet.'

'He's already seen her in her underwear, and witnessed her say something to Grissom he's been trying to get away with for years. I think he'd too distracted.'

'Do I want to know?' Asked Catherine, a grin on her face.

Nick shook his head, 'Sara didn't tell Cheryl we have unisex locker rooms.'

'That's not a bad prank.'

Nick shook his head again, 'I don't know. Something doesn't feel right. It's not the only one she's pulled, but it doesn't feel like she did it for an initiation.' He sighed, 'it seemed more vindictive, somehow.'

'Like she has a thing against Cheryl?'

'Yeah.'

'Sara isn't exactly the warmest and friendliest of people, Nick. You need to get to know her before she opens up, and even then, that's limited. You know that. And she doesn't hold grudges for no reason.'

'This coming from the woman who had a huge blow-out with her, not that long ago?'

'Okay, so she does hold grudges. But I can't see what Cheryl could have done. She hasn't finished her first shift yet. I think you're just over analysing the situation, Nick.'

'Yeah, maybe you're right.' He picked up a new piece of tape and made to continue with lifting the jeans in front of him.

'Why are you so concerned, anyway?' Catherine asked him.

Nick shrugged, 'I don't know. I guess I'm a little worried, that's all.'

'About Sara, or about Cheryl?'

---------------------------------

Warrick was still sat at the computer a short time later, when Grissom walked back into the lab. 'Have you found anything on those prints?' He asked him.

'Yeah. The computer just hit a match. They're Air Jordan XXI's.' Warrick told him.

Grissom looked blankly at him.

'They're the latest from Nike.'

Grissom continued to stare blankly.

'Retailed at around $175? Collector's item? Kids wait for days in advance to get their hands on them, camping out on the streets?'

Grissom still looked blank.

'Sneakers, Gris.' Warrick tried.

'Why would someone camp out for a pair of sneakers?'

Warrick rolled his eyes at his style-lacking mentor. 'For fashion. To be cool.' He shook his head.

'Any ideas on a link between these,' Grissom peered at the computer monitor, 'these Jordans and the laytex?'

Warrick sighed, 'someone who's on their feet all day – someone in the medical profession, perhaps. But someone who is probably no older than thirty and someone who thinks style is important.'

Grissom nodded. 'Good.' He turned and left, barely acknowledging Detective Vartann, who had appeared in the doorway.

'Where's he off to?' Asked Vartann, watching Grissom walk down the corridor.

'I suspect to check on those bugs we found at the crime scene.'

'So, I did a little digging on the owner of the house. Sailes has a brother-in-law, Glenn Crane, from what I can gather. And unlike Sailes, his body is currently here in Vegas.' Vartann handed over a sheet of paper.

'His body?' Asked Warrick.

'Yeah, he was found dead on the strip earlier.'

'Great. Who's working that case?'

'Detective Brass.'

Warrick smiled, 'that means Nick and Catherine are investigating.'

'That put a smile on your face.' Said Vartann.

'Yeah, because we have nothing to go on here.' Warrick told him. He gathered up all of the papers in front of him, and headed off to locate the other two CSIs.

On his way, he made a quick stop in DNA, collecting some papers off Simon before leaving to continue his search. Finding them wasn't hard. They were in one of the evidence rooms, one either side of the enormous table which dominated the room.

'About Sara, or about Cheryl?' Catherine was saying.

'About Sara, or about Cheryl, what?' Warrick asked them, as he joined Catherine side.

'Oh, we were just discussing initiation pranks,' said Nick, 'what's up 'Rick?'

'I think I may have a lead on your case.'

'Your case that boring, you decided to crash ours?'

Warrick smiled at him, 'No, Nicky-boy. I think we may be working the same case. I just called into DNA. The results were ready for your John Doe. Only he's not a John Doe. His name is Glenn Crane.'

'And how does this connect our case to yours?' Catherine asked him.

'The owner of the house we were processing, is one, Joe Sailes. Now, he's out of the country right now, but he's left the house to his sister to sell for him, and his sister was married to Crane.'

"Our vic was killed where we found him. There was no evidence of a body dump at all.' Said Nick

'Now, maybe that's a coincidence, but, the house also had evidence of a dead body in it, and whilst the DNA doesn't match Crane, in my book, that's motive.'

'Hey, guys?' The three CSIs looked up and over to the door. Bobby was stood there. 'Which of you is working the body who was shot?'

'Gun shot victim? That's Sara's case,' said Nick.

'No, I had a bullet sent up from the morgue. It was found in the body from near McDonalds.'

'That victim was shot, Bobby, but it was a through-and-through.' Catherine told him.

'David sent it up. Said it was your case.'

Catherine and Nick looked at each other. 'Did David say anything to you about a second GSW to the vic?'

'Not to me,' said Catherine.

'Bobby, you hang on to the bullet. We're going to see David and see what's going on.'

'Alright,' he shrugged. 'I'll be in my lab when you're ready.' He told them, before leaving.

'Come on, let's sort this out,' said Catherine, and walked out the door, the two men right behind her.

---------------------------------

'Hey guys,' greeted Sofia, as she joined Greg and Cheryl as they got out of the truck.

'Does she usually go on ahead?' Cheryl asked them, as she watched Sara storm off into the building ahead of them.

'It's not unusual,' muttered Sofia.

Cheryl shook her head, but refrained from saying anything, instead following Sofia and Greg into the building.

'So how are you finding things?' Sofia asked her.

'It's not too bad, actually.' She glanced over at the sun that was beginning to peak its way over the horizon. 'Makes a nice change to be still up when the sun is, rather thangetting up now.'

'You prefer the graveyard shift?'

'Oh yeah. I'm really not a morning person.'

The three of them entered the building to find that Sara had already started questioning the owner.

'Yes, ma'am. I appreciate that, but I can't do that until my boss gets here. All that kind of information is locked away in his computer, and I don't have access to that.' The woman behind the counter was telling her.

'Well when will he get here?' Sara asked back impatiently.

'He's not usually here until around lunch time.'

'Look, a man is dead here. Can't you understand that?'

Cheryl bit her lip and stepped forward. 'Morning, ma'am. I'm Detective Carter. I'm here with the Crime Lab too.'

The harassed looking woman turned her attention from Sara, 'hi. Look, I'll tell you, what I told her. All details about customers are in my boss' computer. And I just don't have access to that.'

'I appreciate that, but we have a body back at the morgue with no ID, other than some platinum teeth with diamonds in, and somewhere, someone is going to be worrying about that person.'

The woman sighed, 'the diamonds were set into teeth?'

'Yes, why? Do you know anything that could help us?'

'Normally, the when the diamonds are sold, we set them ourselves. It's a special service we offer. But we have one customer who buys them straight up. I don't know his name, but he owns a surgery called King of Bling Dental Work.'

Greg glanced down at the list in his hand, 'it's here,' he told his companions. Cheryl and Sofia nodded. Sara, on the other hand, walked past them and out of the door. The three blondes shared a look, before thanking the woman and leaving themselves.

'I'm going to go back the station,' said Sofia. 'Let me know how things go.'

'We may as well head back and have a break,' said Greg as Sofia left them. 'Something tells me that this surgery isn't twenty-four hours.' He headed around to the other side of the car and got in.

Cheryl reached to open her door, but Sara, who had been stood waiting, but her hand on the door and stopped her. 'Don't ever do that again.'

Cheryl frowned at her, 'I'm sorry?'

'Undermine me like that in front of someone.'

'Sorry, but your tactic didn't seem to be working.'

'That's not the point. Don't do it again.' She took her hand off the door and got in herself.

Cheryl shut her eyes and took a breath. It was definitely turning out to be an interesting shift. She got in the back, and, ignoring the curious look Greg was sending her way, stared out of the window, trying to drink in the new city.

---------------------------------

'Whenever I have to perform a biopsy on a liver,' Said Doctor Albert Robbins, Chief Medical Examiner, as he pulled a man's liver out of his body and placed it on a weighing scale, 'I always find myself wanting a nice big plate of liver and onions.'

David blanched, 'you really scare me, sometimes,' he managed to mutter.

'Yes,' continued Robbins, not noticing what David had just told him, 'a nice, tender piece of liver, caramelised onions, plenty of gravy, some-'

David was spared more details by Catherine, Warrick and Nick walking into the lab. 'Hey guys,' said Warrick, he looked at David, 'are you alright, David? You look a little green.'

'Are we interrupting something?' Nick asked them.

'I was just discussing supper,' said Robbins, removing the liver from the scales and putting it to one side.

Nick looked from the David, to the liver, and back to David again, 'I _really_ don't want to know.'

'David,' said Catherine, 'we've just seen Bobby. He said you sent him a bullet from our body.'

David nodded.

'But I thought you said it was a through-and-through,' said Nick.

'There were two bullets.' Explained David. 'He was shot twice, in the same place. The first exited him, the second hit a bone and got lodged in it.'

'So the bullet _was_ from our body,' said Nick, 'Thanks David.'

'Yeah, we'll go see what Bobby has for us,' said Warrick, looking back at the liver, 'we'll leave you two to your supper.' David looked at the liver, any remaining colour in his face leaving him.

----------------------------------

Cheryl got out of the Yukon and followed the two other CSI's into the building, as she glanced around the parking lot. The area was looking pretty in the morning light. Perhaps Vegas would work out. She looked over to her Hummer, making a mental note to call about her furniture, but froze, midway through the thought. Her Hummer, or the Skyline, weren't where she left them.

'Cheryl? You've gone white. Are you alright?' Greg was asking her from the doorway where he was stood holding it open for her.

'M…my… my cars. They've gone,' she spluttered. 'My things are in there.'

'It's alright, we'll find them,' he told her, walking over to her side.

'No, you don't understand. They have special GPS tracking devices in them. And there are only two computers with that data on them. One is the Hummer's computer, and the other is my desktop which is in the back of the Hummer.'

Greg placed his hands on her shoulder, 'you're working with me,' he told her, 'I'm good at finding things – it's my job. Besides, this parking lot has CCTV all over it. We'll just go inside and look at the tapes.'

Cheryl nodded, 'yeah, that would be the obvious thing to do,' she muttered, going bright red, 'sorry, I panicked.'

Greg grinned, 'don't worry about it. Come on, lets go tell Sara.'

Cheryl pulled a face, but followed him into the still busy building. The found Sara at the reception desk picking up some messages, and told her what had happened. Sara, although trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile, told them to take as long as they needed, and the two headed to the security office, where they picked up the tapes, before heading to the now vacant AV lab.

* * *

**Thanks for reading guys - don't forget to let me know what you think!  
Updates soon!**


	8. Chapter 8

_Daynaa - thank you for reviewing! No, Sara had nothing to do with the cars - I hadn't even thought of that. Besides, I think that if Cheryl found out it was her doing, she'd probably run her over! As for her problem with Cheryl, it will all be explained soon!_

_Cassandra - Thank you, again, for another wonderful review. I share your view on Sara, which is why I'm not finding it to hard to write her as unpleasant. H's appearence-well, no, my imagination has been working over time and there's going to be a few more parts written before he turns up, but don't worry, he's not going to forget about his shades too soon!_

* * *

'You were right,' said Nick, as he, Catherine and Warrick found Bobby, peering into a microscope in the ballistics lab. 

Booby looked up and nodded. 'I've been running the bullet through IBIS. So far, nothing there.'

'But?'

'But, I do have a match.'

Catherine frowned, 'what do you mean?' Bobby indicated to two microscopes which were set up further down the work bench. Catherine walked over to them and peered into each. 'We have a matching pair.'

'The one on the left is the one David sent me. The one on the right was brought in by Sara, earlier.'

'Are we all working the same case?' Asked Warrick.

Nick shrugged, 'it's beginning to seem that way.'

'Well, there's only one way to find out,' said Catherine, 'come on. Let's go compare notes.'

-----------------------------

After being left by Greg and Cheryl, Sara had sat herself down at a computer in one of the lesser known labs. Cheryl having 'misplaced' her car was nothing short of great news – it meant that she had had some time to do her researching… and it was also extremely amusing at the same time.

She had logged onto the employee records – Grissom had left his post-it of passwords out one day, and she had spotted it - _Philaenus spumarius._ Which, when she'd asked him what it was, was not surprised to find it was an insect.

'_It's one of the insect world's greatest secrets – a flea-like creature which hides in a glob of spit, whilst it sucks the juices from a plant – a froghopper.' Grissom had told her. 'What would be more appropriate than an insect secret to be my secret keeper?'_

Yeah, that was something typically Grissom. Of course, he had followed that with, _'Of course, it may as well be _Sara Sidle_, for the amount of secrets you have locked up in you.'_

The records hadn't given her much to go on, as the information hadn't been transferred over. That was assuming there was information to be sent over. When she'd Google'd the girl, there was no record of her coming up until seven years ago, which according to an article in the New York Times, was also, coincidentally, when another officer, with the same name, had been shot and killed. and when she's done a search of Cambridge University's records, the only Cheryl Carter they had was due to graduate the following year.

Taking this information on board, Sara had done a search of Cheryl's financial records. And there was something there which didn't add up. Literally. Cheryl's expenditure included _three,_ expensive cars, there was rent still being paid on an apartment in Miami, there was evidence of money being spent on a monthly basis in New York, and when she followed up with that lead, discovered that Cheryl had an apartment in Manhattan valued at a few million dollars. Then there was the house here in Vegas she was buying. And that was before normal expenditures such as food and utilities. So who was paying for all this?

After finding this out, Sara had called the Miami Dade Crime Lab, and asked for all the records to be forwarded, on the pretence she was updating them here. The person on the other end of the phone had guessed that wasn't the case, but instead of hanging up, had promised to fax her everything they could find on Cheryl, on the condition Sara allowed them to do it without their name being mentioned. Well, whilst slightly suspicious, Sara told them that was fine. So they were going to call back later.

So Sara was now sat, staring at the screen, chewing at her lip, waiting.The thought of whether or not she was doing the right thing had crossed her mind, but after looking up this new girl, if there was even the slightest chance she was a fraud... well, she had to find out for the good of the team - and now, it seemed like she wasfinding out that she didn't exist.

-----------------------------

Within ten minutes of staring at the security footage, Cheryl and Greg had the answer to where Cheryl's car's had gone. It had been towed.

'Did you have your parking permit on display?' Asked Greg.

'Parking permit?'

'I guess that's the problem then. They'll be in police custody now, but they'll be safe. I'm surprised you haven't had a message.'

'I'm surprised they towed it. It had Miami Dade Crime Lab plastered all over it. Surely they couldn't have been that stupid that they didn't think that _maybe_ the owner was at the very least, assisting on a case, but I guess that's why they're parking attendants.'

Greg frowned, 'I don't think all parking attendants are stupid. They might not be doing the same thing as we do, but that's no reason to insult them.'

'I wasn't generalising to all parking attendants. I was referring to the idiots, who towed my truck,' she pouted.

Greg shook his head, 'alright, I'll call the impound yard, see if I can get them to tow the truck back. With any luck, it will still be attached to the tow truck. You go speak to Grissom. See if you can get a parking permit off him.'

Cheryl nodded and left, and walked down the winding corridors until she found Grissom's office. Seeing the door open, she knocked and walked in. He wasn't there, and she was about to leave when something caught her eye. She wandered over to some shelves to find several dead animals pickling in jars, including a pig foetus.

The walls were littered with shelves, which in turn were littered with books and bugs. Cheryl peered up at one collection – a large display of centipedes and millipedes.

'Myriapods, from the arthropod family,' said a voice from behind.

'It's one ugly bug.'

'Insect,' corrected Grissom.

'Insect. Bug. Same difference.'

Grissom shook his head. 'All bugs are insects, but all insects are not bugs.' Seeing Cheryl's puzzled expression, he tried again, 'insects are in the class _insecta_, but bugs are part of the family, _hemiptera_.'

'Oh, I get it.' She looked back at the display. 'I don't mind insects, but anything with more than six legs is just scary. What do you need all those legs for anyway?' Said Cheryl.

Grissom smiled at her, 'you like insects?'

'No, I said I don't mind them. If I saw one in the house I wouldn't scream and panic, but at the same time, I wouldn't want to let it stay there.' A light bulb turned on in Cheryl's head, 'you're the bug man!'

Grissom smiled again, 'I prefer forensic entomologist, but yes, I am the bug man.' He placed a board down on his desk covered in flies.

'What's that?' Asked Cheryl, eyeing the board suspiciously.

'It's a board I created of the life cycle of the _Sarcophagidae_. It's one of the last flies that will come to a decomposing body.'

'As in sarcophagus?'

'Similar,' said Grissom, 'it's usually known as the flesh fly, because it eats the flesh.'

Cheryl grimaced, 'that is disgusting.'

'It's just helping nature along.'

'Spiders I can handle, but flies…'

'For most other people, it's the other way around.'

'Yeah, well, I don't like things buzzing around my head, and the majority of what do either bite or sting. Spiders kill them.'

'I can see the logic.'

'I don't like caterpillars, either.' Cheryl added, as an afterthought.

'Because they turn into moths and butterflies, which will then fly around you?'

'No. Actually, moths and butterflies are about the only flying insects I like.'

'So why don't you like caterpillars?'

'I did like them, but then, when I went to LSU, for a month of the year, they would just kamikaze off of trees and land all over me. It freaked me out,' she shuddered.

'_Malacosoma disstria _and the _Hemileuca maia._'

Cheryl looked at him blankly, 'sorry, I only speak two languages: English, and American English.'

'The Forest Tent caterpillar, and the Buck Moth Caterpillar. Common in many parts of Louisiana.'

'Yeah, and they can stay there. They're just further proof that anything with more than six legs can't be trusted.' She moved slightly closer to the flies Grissom had put on his desk. 'So why do you have that?'

'We found some brain matter at our crime scene. Seeing as there is nothing else to go on, other than a possible disturbance at the location, I'm trying to determine if the insect I found can give us a better idea.' He held up a small pot with the bug he had collected in it.

'It's a maggot.' Said Cheryl. 'Surely you can't tell the difference between several species of maggot.'

'Not easily. That's why I kept one, and let several others evolve. When the maggots had gotten to a stage where I could identify them, I pulled out this board.'

'So how old is the brain matter?'

'There's a specific order in which insects arrive at a body.'

'Yeah, I know, small flies, then big flies, then beetles.'

Grissom smiled, 'not bad. Well, the beetles hadn't arrived, and this fellow is in the earliest stage, which means,' he continued, after seeing Cheryl's confused expression, 'that the disturbance noted in the house, was probably when the victim was killed. About three weeks ago.'

Cheryl slowly nodded her head, unable to think of anything suitable to respond to that.

Grissom frowned and looked at her, 'is there a reason why you came to see me?'

'Oh, yeah. Can I have a parking permit, please.' She paused, 'actually, can I have two?'

'Two? Has Greg eaten his again?'

'No,' snickered Cheryl, 'I just have two cars out there, and I don't want either of them getting towed again.'

Grissom walked around to his desk and pulled open his top draw. 'Ecklie gave me this earlier. It's your identification card,' he told her, as he handed it over, 'and here's some parking permits.'

Cheryl thanked Grissom and then walked outside to the parking lot. Greg had worked quickly. The cars were sat in the far corner, taking up about ten spaces again. Greg was stood in front of the Skyline, eyeing it up and down. 'What took you so long?' He asked her, as he noticed her come closer. 'Did Grissom decide to educate you on the wonders of bugs?'

'Something like that,' she told him, as she climbed into the Hummer, and hung the permit from the rear-view mirror.

'I'm not surprised.' He looked thoughtfully at the Skyline, again, 'Cheryl, can I ask you a question?'

Cheryl shrugged, 'alright.'

'Is that the same paint job as the car in _2 Fast 2 Furious_?'

'Pretty much, yeah. It's not the same car though. I just liked the paint job.' She told him as she put the permit into that car.

'Why?'

'I like cars. And I like that film. It's loaded up pretty similar too. All I need is Paul Walker, and I'd be set.' She told him with a grin.

'You into street racing?'

'No, but I do have a speeding problem.' She told him, as they walked back into the building.

They hadn't gotten further than reception when Sara appeared. 'We should go to the dentists, she told them, shortly, before marching past them and outside.

Cheryl looked at Greg, who shrugged, 'come on.' The two walked back outside and into the sun.

---------------------

The dentist surgery was located in down town Las Vegas, in between an adult store, and a Blockbuster. 'Classy,' muttered Cheryl, to Greg, as they walked in.

'Welcome to Vegas,' he responded.

The reception was small and dark, but relatively clean. Sat behind a desk was a small woman, who was busy painting her nails a fire truck red.

'Excuse me, but we'd like to see the owner.' Said Sara, flashing her badge.

The woman looked up, and seeing the badge, put down the nail polish and went through the only other door in the room. A few minutes later, a tall black man came back out, looking the CSIs up and down. 'Can I help you?'

'Hi, my name's Sara Sidle. This is Greg Sanders and Cheryl Carter. We're with the Las Vegas Crime Lab.'

'Durrell Barnes. What can I help with you with?'

'Do you recognise these?' Asked Greg, holding up a picture of the platinum teeth.

Cheryl, who had, up until then, been stood staring, transfixed, at his red sneakers, looked up to watch his reaction.

'How did you get this?'

'We found a body. We've been trying to ID him. Do you recognise it.'

'I should. I only melted the platinum, set the diamonds, and fixed them in the mouth of my brother.'

'You're brother?'

'Alfred. Everyone called him, 'Lil Al.' Durrell sank into one of the waiting room chairs. 'What happened?'

'He was shot,' Sara told him, shortly. Durrell sank his hands into his face. 'Look,' said Sara, clearly growing impatient, 'we could really do with talking to you about your brother. Could you come to the Police Department later, to answer a few questions?'

Durrell sat there, seemingly not hearing her. Cheryl looked over at Sara, who threw her arms in the air in exasperation. Cheryl took a deep breath and sat down on the seat next to him. 'I'm really sorry, Mr Barnes, but anything you tell us could really help us find out who did this to your brother.'

Durrell nodded his head slowly, 'I'll come,' he told her, his voice muffled from behind his hands.

The three CSIs left the surgery and walked back to the Yukon. 'For a dentist, he doesn't do too badly.' Greg told her.

'What makes you say that?' Cheryl asked him.

'His car.' He pointed over to a black convertible.

'A Jaguar XK,' said Cheryl, with a smile.

'Why the smile?'

'Oh, I helped Nick and Catherine identify a car earlier. I wonder how they are doing with that.'

'Let's go back and find out.' Suggested Sara, closing her door with a slam.

Cheryl cringed. 'I really hate it when she does that.'

'What? Slam the door, or be sarcastic?'

'Both,' she told him, shrugging.

* * *

**Another chapter for all y'all. I'll hopefully have another one up later this evening... I'm off on my Spring Break tomorrow, which will most likely consist of a lot of sun, and a lot of alcohol, and no internet. In the meantime though, leave me a review:p**


	9. Chapter 9

_Cassandra - this chapter should make you both happy, and... frustrated? Happy, because, well, other than the first paragraph, no more Sara in the chapter, frustrated because, well I'd tell you, but it would give the chapter away! The person Sara spoke to, is the 'mole.' I'm taking liberties with the timelines for the shows... but never mind!_

_Daynaa - I'm glad you're liking this series. And I'm really glad you like my baby, Cheryl. There's still much more to come - I have a crazy imagination!_

* * *

Cheryl, Greg and Sara arrived back at the Lab, a short time later, after having spent most of the journey back in silence. As they walked into reception, Sara's phone went off. She pulled it out of her pocket, and after a brief glance, turned to the other two. 'I have to take this. It's important.' She quickly disappeared, giving no other information. 

Cheryl sighed and followed Greg back to the break room. In it were Warrick, Catherine and Nick, all stretched out over the two couches in there. 'Just the guys we were after.' Exclaimed Warrick.

'Why, what have we done?' Asked Greg.

'Ah, so speak a guilty mind,' said Nick.

Greg shrugged, and, ignoring the room's laughter, headed over to the coffee machine, whilst Cheryl sat down on the couch, next to Warrick, and leant back and shut her eyes.

'First day that bad?'

Cheryl opened her eyes. 'I had a decomp in my home.'

'Enough said.'

Cheryl sighed. 'All things considered, it wasn't that bad. At least I didn't get shot.'

'I'm sorry?' Said Warrick, sure he'd misheard.

'I used to work at the NYPD before I trained as a CSI. Got shot there the first day on the job saving my dumb-ass partner.' She chuckled, 'first day as a CSI at Miami I got shot saving my not-so-dumb-ass partner. I guess the third time is lucky.'

'I'm sorry,' Catherine told her.

'Don't be sorry. Just don't stand too close. I'm like a giant bullet magnet. I give it a month, tops, before I get shot again.' She laughed at their startled expressions, 'seriously, how I am still alive is beyond me.'

'You want a coffee?' Greg asked her, as he poured himself a mug.

'Thanks, but I don't drink coffee.'

'You what!' Exclaimed Greg, almost dropping the coffee pot.

'I don't drink coffee.'

'Oh dear,' Warrick muttered to Nick, 'she just got blasphemous in the presence of the coffee god.' Catherine laughed.

'How can you not drink coffee? It's the, the,' started Greg in horror.

'The elixir of life for all police officials?' She asked, thinking of how she had had it referred to that on numerous occasions back in Miami.

'Exactly!' Cried Greg.

'I just don't like it. So, I'm weird.'

'Then tell me you at least like tea. That's what all English people drink, right?'

Cheryl slowly shook her head. 'Nope, I don't like that either.'

'I guess there is no future together for us.' Greg groaned.

'Wow, you must have had some fulfilling relationships in the past if you base your relationships on whether or not the girl likes coffee.'

'I shall just have to introduce you to my special brew of coffee.'

'So, you'll let the girl who doesn't like coffee drink your good stuff, but we who like the stuff, you go to every painful effort to hide it from us! What has this girl done that we haven't?' Warrick asked him.

'Shown him her underwear.' Grinned Nick. From the twinkle in his eye Cheryl could see that he'd managed to read her well enough to know that he could get away with that statement to say it.

Warrick's mouth dropped open. 'Greg!'

'Oh, is that Grissom I can hear calling me?' Greg mumbled, before dashing out of the door.

Warrick burst out laughing, 'that's the first time he's been like that in ages.'

'Are you going to tease him about this, now?' Cheryl asked them.

'Oh yeah,' said Nick, 'for a long time.'

'I'm sorry,' said Warrick, 'but what exactly were you two doing to end up in your underwear?'

'My fault,' said Cheryl, 'I assumed that the guys had a separate locker room, and basically, I needed a shower after dealing with the decomp.' She looked up as Greg came back in the door.

'I guess Grissom wasn't after you, then?' Smiled Catherine, as Greg walked over.

He smirked at her, then turned his attention to Cheryl, 'Barnes is in reception.'

'Already? Should we go find Sara?'

'I already did. She said she had things to do, and that we should be capable of handling it.'

Cheryl shrugged. 'Fair enough.'

'Hey, guys, we could do with talking to one of you about your case.' Warrick told them.

Cheryl looked at Greg, 'your call.'

'You go talk to Barnes. He seemed to listen to you earlier.' Cheryl nodded and left the room, heading to one of the interview rooms the crime lab had.

From what she understood, all suspects had to be interviewed across the way, at the police precinct, but for informal questioning, there was nothing unusual about having a talk in the crime lab. So that's where she found herself.

She smiled at the officer and sat down opposite Durrell at the table. 'Good morning, I'm Detective Carter. Thank you for coming in so quickly, Mr Barnes. I wasn't expecting to speak to you until much later on.'

'I just wanted to get this over with.'

'When was the last time you saw your brother?' She asked him, making notes on a sheet of paper.

'About three and a half weeks ago. The day after I did his teeth.'

'Can you think of anyone that would want to hurt him?'

''Lil Al was into a lot of things.'

'Things? Like drugs?'

'Amongst other things.' Durrell began fidgeting with his Rolex. 'I kept trying to tell him to get out of it. Make something of his life. Like I did.'

-----------------------------

Whilst Cheryl was talking to Durrell, Greg had been filling Nick, Catherine and Warrick in on their case. Now, Greg and Warrick were on their way to DNA, whilst Nick and Catherine were headed out front to head over to the PD to see if they could get a background check on Barnes.

Catherine yawned, 'this has been a long shift.'

Nick nodded in agreement, his eyes automatically sweeping the parking lot as they walked past it. He stopped suddenly, grabbing Catherine's arm, 'what are the chances of that?'

Catherine followed Nick's pointed arm. 'A Jaguar XK?'

'Did the computer finish running the DMV check?'

Catherine glanced at her watch, 'it should have by now.' The two did a 180 and headed back into the crime lab. As they were walking into the evidence room, they were joined by Warrick and Greg.

'So,' said Warrick, 'we've just come from DNA. The hairs found at Greg's crime scene came back as a match to Crane. And the matter from my crime scene are a match to the decomp found at Cheryl's.'

'Which means, Crane killed 'Lil Al,' said Greg, 'but there's nothing which connects Durrell to the crime scene, or to Crane.'

'Ah,' said Catherine, 'I've just finished checking the DMV database. Durrell _does_ have a Jaguar XK. And we have those prints at our crime scene. If Crane killed his brother, there is definitely motive there.'

'And we have the suspect here in the building.' Said Nick.

'Alright,' said Warrick, 'Nick, you want to go in and join Cheryl?'

----------------------------

'Are you alright there, Mr Barnes?' Cheryl leant across the table and rested her hand on his, 'I realise this is hard, but you are helping.'

Durrell nodded, 'could I have a drink?'

'Sure. Coffee?' Durrell nodded, and Cheryl turned around to the officer. The officer nodded at her, and then left. Almost as soon as the door closed behind him, it opened again, 'that was,' Cheryl turned around, 'Nick?'

'Mind if I join you?'

'Sure,' she shrugged, moving over so he could bring a chair under the table next to her.

'Hi there, Mr Barnes. My name is Nick Stokes. I'm also with the crime lab. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?' Durrell nodded. 'Where we you yesterday evening, around seven?' Cheryl looked at Nick curiously, but said nothing.

'At home.'

'And is there anyone who can verify this?'

'No. I was home alone. Why is this relevant?' Durrell began fidgeting.

Cheryl leaned over to Nick, 'what's up?' She whispered.

------------------------------------

On the other side of the one way mirror, Warrick, Catherine, Greg and Grissom were watching the interview.

'He's fidgeting,' said Greg.

'Just because he's fidgeting, doesn't mean he is killed Crane, Greg.' Said Grissom.

'No, but it means he's guilty.'

'He could have been doing something he's embarrassed to say.'

Greg pouted and turned his attention back to the interview. Before he could focus in on what was being said, the door opened.

'Ah, Greg, here you are.' It was Sofia. 'I ran a check on the dental surgery. It's owned by a Durrell Barnes. But he's anything other than a dentist. Unless he learned everything from prison. He's been in and out for the last twenty years, on various offences, including possession of an illegal fire arm, assault, aggravated burglary, and several DUI's. I think we should get him in to the station and have a chat with him.'

Greg stepped to one side, and allowed Sofia to see into the room. 'He's already in.'

Sofia's reaction was not what he expected. She drew her gun. When the others turned to see why, their mouths dropped.

----------------------------

Nick merely smiled at Cheryl, before turning his attention to the man opposite. 'You have a Jaguar, don't you.' Cheryl suddenly realised where he was going with this.

'Yeah. Why? I didn't steal it.'

Nick ignored the implication, 'does the name "Glenn Crane" mean anything to you?'

Cheryl watched Durrell. He seemed to freeze, then all of a sudden, he jumped to life. Literally. He jumped back from the table, sending the chair flying. Cheryl and Nick jumped to their feet, ready to react, when they both noticed the gun.

'I aint going down for this.' He yelled, switching where he was aiming the gun between Cheryl and Nick.

'Now, look,' said Nick, holding his hands out in front of him, 'you haven't done anything yet. Why don't you just put the gun down before this goes anywhere?'

'It's already gone somewhere!' Durrell yelled. 'I killed Crane.'

Well, that was a confession and a half. 'Why don't you just do what Nick suggested, and put the gun down, and we can all talk about this reasonably.' Said Cheryl, also with her hands out in front of her.

'I don't need to talk to a kid about this. What could you possibly do?'

'You just had to bring the age thing into this, didn't you?' Snapped Cheryl.

'Cheryl,' muttered Nick, 'angering the person holding a gun at you is hardly going to help the situation.'

'Look, just shut up. Before I shoot you.'

'So go ahead and shoot me already. You won't be the first, and you may as well follow the trend. It is my first day, and all.'

And then there was a loud bang as a gunshot echoed around the room.

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**Mwahahahahaha (evil laugh) look at that for a cliff-hanger. And y'all will have to wait a week to find out what happened!**

**So, you've read this far... and as I'm not going to post again for a whole week (!) why don't y'all take advantage of this break to let me know if you like/don't like/or think I'm just plain evil! **


	10. Chapter 10

_Cassandra - as always, thanks for the R&R! Sorry to leave you waiting for so long, but I'm going to post two chapters in an attempt to make it up to you :p_

_Daynaa - again, thanks for the R&R. Yeah, some things never change._

_Anna - yeah, I suppose it would seem like that. Not quite my intention, but never mind. The next to chapters are to kinda explain why she seems like that - her past. It seems it's needed._

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The gunshot was followed almost at the same second by the two-way mirror exploding into pieces, out into the room. As the glass exploded, both Durrell fired his own gun, and Cheryl and Nick drew their own weapons and opened fire on Durrell. One of them hit him in the chest, and he fell to the ground. As Cheryl ran over, her gun still aimed at him and kicked his gun out of his hand, the door behind flew open and several officers, led by Sofia filed into the room. 

Cheryl dropped to her knees and felt for a pulse. He was dead. Two hands placed themselves on her shoulder and pulled her to her feet and led her out of the room.

'Cheryl, are you alright?' Said Catherine, the owner of the hands.

Cheryl nodded and looked down at her hands. The shakes had set in. She looked up, and over at Nick, who was looking back at her, looking just as shaken. His eyes dropped to her stomach, and he shook Warrick off who had his hands on his shoulders.

'Cheryl, you've been hit.' Said Nick, as he hurried over.

Cheryl looked down at the red stain on her white top. 'No, that's not my blood.' She told him.

'Then why is the stain getting bigger?'

Cheryl looked back down at her top to witness a drop of blood fall to the ground. She lifted the top up, and found a small hole in her stomach. 'Well, that's not good.' She muttered, feeling suddenly light-headed. She was vaguely aware of someone shouting for a paramedic as she passed out.

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When Cheryl came around, she was lying down on a bed, and feeling like she had just been shot, which, she remembered, she had. Having been shot four times now, she would have thought she would have been accustomed to the pain. But she wasn't.

As she opened her eyes and was assaulted by the obnoxiously bright lights, she could hear voices.

'Hey, guys, she waking up.'

She ignored the further voices coming from the people in her room, and tried to sit up. A pain erupted in her side as she shifted position and she fell back down, crying out in pain.

'Cheryl, you've just had surgery. Don't try to move so much.' Cheryl ignored Nick and raised her arms in the air, her eyes urgently checking for any form of IV.

'Why aren't I a human pin cushion?' She managed to croak.

'You can thank your uncle,' said Catherine. 'He's your emergency contact. When we contacted him, he expressly told us that under no circumstances what-so-ever, were you to wake up with a needle in your arm.'

Cheryl smiled weakly and accepted a glass of water Nick was offering her. She took a sip, and with his help, manoeuvred the bed so she was sat more upright. 'He's coming here, isn't he?'

Catherine shrugged. 'He didn't say. What he did say, was something along the lines of, please let her know, as soon as she wakes up, that I am the first in a long line of people here, that will make her wish she hadn't woken up.'

Cheryl groaned and sank back into the pillows. 'Yeah, he's coming here.'

'Ah, I see my patient is alive, good afternoon, Detective Carter.' Said The doctor as he walked into the room and over to Cheryl. 'We took the bullet out during surgery. You are a very lucky young lady. The bullet missed every organ and major arteries.'

'Lucky?' She exclaimed, as the doctor checked her pulse and other vitals, 'I was shot. Again! That's not exactly lucky, is it?' The doctor just smiled at her, filled in her chart, and left.

'What you did was stupid. You nearly died!' Said Greg, suddenly.

Cheryl gaped at him, taken back by his sudden angry outburst. 'Sorry,' she muttered.

'Actually, what you did also nearly got Nick killed,' said Grissom quietly. He had been stood at the end of the bed so quietly that Cheryl hadn't noticed him.

She dropped her head, 'I am really sorry,' she said, equally as quietly, 'when I get angry, I don't think about my actions, or their consequences.' She looked up when she felt her hand being squeezed. She followed the arm of the owner to Nick, who was sat in a chair next to her bed.

'Don't worry about it. We're both alive. That's what matters. Besides, that's not the first time I've had the barrel of a gun pointed at me.'

'Nicky here has had a gun pointed at his head on more than one occasion,' explained Warrick, in response to Cheryl's puzzled face. 'Unlike you, he's been a bit luckier and not got shot.'

'The officer should never have left the room, anyway,' said Catherine.

Cheryl looked at them, 'how do you know what happened?'

'We were on the other side of the mirror, watching,' Catherine explained.

'Hey,' said Sara, as she entered the room, 'I hope you are feeling better, Detective Carter,' she said, as she brandished a pile of papers, 'if that really is your name.'

Cheryl, along with the rest of the room stared at the brunette, completely clueless. 'What on earth are you talking about, Sara?' Cheryl asked her.

'You know exactly what I'm talking about. There is no point in lying any longer.' Sara raised an eyebrow at her before throwing a sheet of paper on the bed. 'There is no record of a Cheryl Carter being born matching your description. The only Cheryl Carter didn't appear until eight years ago, in New York,'

'No, because before that, I was Cheryl Lincoln. My mother remarried and I took my stepfather's name.'

'Alright. So how do you explain this?' Sara threw another set of papers onto the bed. 'You have three cars in your name and when you lived in Miami, you had a very expensive apartment. The money you earn would never be able to afford that, let alone the mortgage on the house in Henderson you were going to buy, nor the million dollar property in New York, that you also seem to have.'

'You went through my finances?' Cheryl cried, 'what the hell gave you the right to do that?'

'I think you are a fraud, and I'm going to prove it.'

Cheryl looked around the room at the various occupants who were all looking uncomfortable, yet curious. 'You want to know about me?' She asked them, 'fine, here it is, every boring, irrelevant detail.

'My mother came to Florida on vacation. She met a guy and they ended up sleeping with each other. She went home, not knowing she was pregnant, and twenty four years ago tomorrow, I was born. She couldn't get in contact with my father and for twenty three years, I lived not knowing who he was. For the first five years of my life, I was home schooled. By the time I went to school, I was years ahead of the children my age, and got put forward several years. I hated school, and as a result, I did my best to get out of there as quickly as possible. By the time I was thirteen, I was accepted into Cambridge University where I did an engineering degree. Which I loved, because I was the only girl on the course, and Damnit, the _only _people who have really had a problem with my age were girls.' She glared at Sara, before continuing.

'Whilst doing that degree, I developed an engine, which is similar to the engine in my Hummer at the moment. My then boyfriend, Chris, stole the idea off me, and patented it, and is currently living quite well off it, and might I add, if he ever comes near me, I will shoot him. Needless to say, I wanted out of there after that. Thankfully, my mother met someone, Joseph Carter, of New York's, Carter and Landry Shipping. She moved to New York to be with him, whilst I discovered that I was still considered too young to get a job. So I went back to University, this time in the States. I went to LSU, despite the fact I could have gotten into _any_ Ivy League Institution, which I didn't go to because at the time, after having a ₤25,000 student loan to pay off, I couldn't really afford it, despite any scholarships I could have gotten. Financially, LSU was the only place I could afford.

'One year in, and my mother married Joseph, and I took his name. it was the least I could do considering it was he who was the one financing my education. He paid off my English dept and all the fees for LSU, and even offered to pay for me to go to another University. But I was happy where I was, so I stayed, and he never questioned it, and never pushed it, because it was what I wanted to do.

'In my second year, and after joining a sorority, which was my step-fathers only request, I had teamed up with three of my sisters in a business venture. Together we created a company called _Nu Woman._ They handled the business side, and I took care of the science and the soap's formulas. We created a line called _Clean_, which is how I managed to know about the shower gel and shampoo I use and why I use it. And the only reason it's not known to most is because the CEOs of the company, my sisters, wanted to make it as exclusive as possible and only allows it to be sold from the ridiculously overpriced department stores. Or direct from the factory website. But unless you know to look for it, you won't find it. Which I am still trying to get them to change their minds about, but apparently that's not my department. Which, frankly doesn't really bother me, and I am quite happy to be left to the science and formulas of the soap. It keeps me in the back out of the way, and besides, I don't really need any more money.

'When I was in my last year, my step-father was killed in a car-jacking gone wrong. By the time I had finished that degree, nineteen was still considered young, and I still didn't know what I wanted to do. I had enough money from _Nu Woman_ and the second engine I patented for me to live off comfortably, and my step-father had left my mother everything that she need not ever work again. I decided that I wanted to be closer to my mother, who was still living in New York, so I moved there and joined the force.

'I was there for two years, working with the same partner, who is an arrogant ass, I might add, but he was my partner. And I took a bullet for him, on my first day, whilst killing the guy who shot me. After that, me and him spent two years getting to the bottom of that shooting – it was a gang thing, and not only was it the first time I shot someone, it was the first time I encountered a dead body. He was seven.' Cheryl grew silent, and started picking imaginary fluff off her sheets. She sighed, then continued, still picking at the sheets.

'Then 9/11 happened. And my mum was killed. She wasn't on a plane, or in one of the towers. She just happened to be in a coffee shop when the towers came tumbling down on it. I stuck around for a while, long enough to arrest the gang member who killed the kid, but after the detective on the case failed to document the evidence properly, and the kid walked, I knew I had to get out of there.

'Despite the fact I am a trustee child, with enough money that I will never have to even think about work again, and could probably afford to buy a small island, I realised that I could never do that because it's not the kind of person I am: I would get bored. I had spent all my time working in one way or another, and hell, had only just turned old enough to legally drink. So I got in touch with an old professor at Cambridge and he got me into forensics. I live in London for two years, where in the entire time there, I had a grand total of eight days off. I lived and breathed work. By the time I got the job in Miami, I was a level 3.

'On my first day there, I was shot saving a colleague, and on the same day I found out the man my mother slept with all those years ago was my boss' dead brother, and suddenly I found out I had a whole new family, including a half sister, and a half brother who don't even know about each other, let alone me. Whilst the half-sister, and her mother, quite happily welcomed me into the family, Horatio and I decided that my half-brother, Raymond Jr, and his mom, my father's widow, couldn't find out about me, and we let them come to the conclusion I was Horatio's daughter, to protect them.

'I'd been there about a month when we all went out one night, which, believe it or not, was my first night out in about three years. And as luck would have it, some muppet decided it would be a good idea to open fire in the club to try and get revenge on the guy who had raped her girlfriend, and the same guy who was also, conveniently, talking to me. We found out that the guy, who had raped the girl, was also supplying fake ID's. Which is where the FBI come into the story that is my life. As I was the only one who could unsurprisingly pass for a minor, I ended up going undercover, which is when I died my hair from red-brown, to red-blonde, in the hopes he wouldn't recognise me. He didn't, but he was working with the barman, who was spiking drinks with Rohypnol. I didn't get raped, or anything. Thankfully, the rest of the team arrested him before that could happen, but after that I decided to keep my hair blonde. And it helped secure the idea in Yelina's, my step-mother, I guess, in her head, that I was her niece.

'The girl who opened fire in the club – she was the reason for me developing the Cocaine Procedure. Long story short, the girl who did it, covered her tracks by going straight to a gun range and shooting a few rounds, so we couldn't prove she did it, even though we all knew she had. And then, because she really pissed me off, I spent the next few months working on a procedure so that in the future should anyone ever be in the same situation, they could test and compare GSR. And that was another few months where I hardly left the lab, and had a life.

'After that, I ended up working the case with Mayor Rollin's son. Another case, where in the process, I was shot. By both the guy who had kidnapped his son, and my colleague, who I forgive, because if she hadn't, I would most definitely be dead. And that's how I ended up with this bogus level 4 being awarded to me, which I didn't want then, and still don't want now, because all it has done is brought trouble, with people like you, Sara, who already can't except me because I am twenty three and doing the same job as you. But Damnit, I worked hard for it, and if you have something else to say, then say it.' Cheryl glared at Sara, who was staring back at her.

Nick leant over and put his hand on her arm, 'Cheryl,' he muttered, 'you didn't have to do that.'

'Sara, was that necessary?' Greg cried.

Sara ignored him, 'so why is it every piece of literature, and even that DVD have some other woman in it?'

'Calleigh Duquesne?' Cheryl asked, 'because I asked her to. If you were to look up the leading ballistics experts in the world, you would find her name close to, if not at the top, of the list. And as you've already proved, people are going to take her more seriously than me, who, as we've already established, is easily mistaken for a child, or an intern. And who's going to take a child seriously when they have a very visible bullet scar on their neck?

'As I have already explained to Grissom and Warrick, the name behind it was not my first choice. I didn't know what to call it for ages, and it was saved as the Carter-Caine Procedure for the longest time. But when I sent it off to various people for them to check it and verify it, the computer had somehow changed the name to the C'caine Procedure. Or, as it sounded when read out, the Cocaine Procedure. I hate publicity, and talking in front of people, so I kept it in an attempt to keep some animosity. _And_, if you were to look at the papers and DVD properly, you would see that my name is all over it, and it is merely presented by, or verified by Calleigh, who, if you want to check with her, was more than happy to do it.' She pulled out her phone and flung it at Sara, 'speed dial 7.'

Sara scowled before throwing the phone back on the bed.

'Sara,' started Grissom.

'No, wait,' said Sara, 'you may have explained that, but how do you explain this?' She held up several sheets of newspaper, the top one blaring the headline, _Cole Turnall's Girlfriend to Tamper with Evidence_. Next was _CSI Investigated as she Cheats on Star, and Cheats on Case. _She dropped it on the bed and held up the next, _Cheryl Carter: Detective, CSI, and Drug Addict._ This was followed by, _Turnall's Ex Attacks Both Medics and Reporters,_ finally followed by_, Carter Suspended for Violent Misconduct._

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**So, I'm back from my Spring Break (begging my liver to forgive me) and have decided, what-the -heck, and I'm going to post a second chapter in a few moments!**


	11. Chapter 11

Cheryl sank further into the pillow, 'please don't do this, Sara,' she mumbled.

'Cheryl,' Said Grissom, 'whilst I don't agree with Sara as to what she brought up, or as to how she brought this subject up, especially in front of everyone, if this is something which could affect the integrity of the lab, and my CSIs, I'm going to have to ask for an explanation.'

Cheryl shut her eyes. For a while it seemed like she wasn't going to speak. Then she opened her eyes and looked around the room. Greg had frozen in place, Warrick was looking at her with a confused expression on his face, and Catherine looked worried. Nick, whilst he was still holding her hand, wasn't looking at her, Grissom was staring at her expressionless, and Sara was glaring smugly.

'You know, Sara, spilt out like that, my life seems somewhat tragic, but I have never thought about it that way. I admit, I tend to run away from my troubles, it's the easy thing to do. But I had a wonderful mother who loved me, and supported me, and was proud of me. My step-father didn't have children, but he love me like I was his own, and we got on really well. He was proud of me and let me do what I needed to, and he supported me both in my decisions, and financially. Even though he is dead, he left me enough shares in his company that I am one of two majority holders, even though I don't work directly for them, he also left me one of the biggest apartments in Manhattan that you could imagine, which my old partner lives in with a paramedic who was assigned to the firehouse opposite our PD. And they haven't paid me rent in over six months, but it doesn't matter.

'My ex-partner even has one of my cars, which was a present from my step-father on my eighteenth birthday, because he knew how much I loved cars. I don't question him having it. I don't question them not paying the rent. With its space, and location, they couldn't afford a month's rent if they combined their wages for a year. They're my friends, brothers almost, and they were there for me then, and they will be there for me now. So despite how horrific and bad my life has seemed to lay it all out like that, I never thought of it like that.

'For the last two months in Miami, I was happy. Truly happy.' She began to explain, her voice finally breaking. 'Sure I'm young, I get ID'd all the time, mistaken for a child, and even accused left, right and centre of being too inexperienced to do my job properly, _but_ I was healthy and fit, and not trying to sound big headed, I'm not bad looking and, well, pretty damn intelligent. I had a great job, which I really enjoyed. I found a real family member who loved me like I was his own daughter, and even now, would take a bullet for me. Lord knows he's put his neck out for me on more than one occasion, like he has with pretty much everyone else I worked with, never asking for anything in return.

'My colleagues loved me like I was a sister, and Calleigh has since told me that the hardest thing she ever had to do was shoot me, because it felt like she _was _shooting her sister. Eric has three other sisters and still treated me like a younger sister, which was sometimes a pain in the neck, but he was there for me. And then there was Tim, the guy I took a bullet for. The man whom I was living with. And I think I was really in love with him. He was the first person who I trusted and could see myself being with, for a long time.

'And then the Cole Turnall Case happened. Up until then, and this includes losing a mother, a step-father, and even discovering I would never be able to meet my real father because he had died in an undercover operation, I had never even considered feeling sorry for myself. There are people out there who have been through so much more and are still smiling. Hell, when I stopped in Baton Rouge, I spoke to one woman, a Katrina evacuee from New Orleans, who had lost her husband, two children, dog, car, job, house, sister and brother-in-law, and all her belongings – all she had was the clothes on her back, and a wedding ring, that she had been wearing for three days, whilst she was trapped on top of her roof, and she was…' Cheryl took a deep breath, 'I couldn't even begin to feel sorry for myself. I had no right.' Cheryl paused again and took another deep breath. She shut her eyes before continuing, trying, unsuccessfully to stop the tears which were now streaming down her face.

'Seven weeks ago, I worked a high profile case in Miami. I came straight from court, the day after I foundoutabout my promotion, to the hotel room of Cole Turnall, the guy who won the Pop Idol show. In his bed were two dead girls. One had died from a cocaine overdose, the other was killed when she realised that the other girl was dead. In the process of investigating, Cole asked to talk to me, and pulled a leaf from my hair. Except it was photographed from an angle which looked very compromising in the papers. His PA, who was helping him cover up the murder, leaked to the paper that I was in a relationship with him, and was going to get him off the charge, anyway I could.

'They managed to get their hands on some video footage of me kissing my boyfriend, and altered it so it looked like I was kissing Cole. And then came half of these stories,' she indicated to the papers, 'along with the accusations of me being a drug user. I have a really bad phobia of needles. That's why Horatio called and made sure I wouldn't wake up with needles in my arm. He knows what I'm like, because in the past he has had reports on his desk about a violent CSI who had hit out at medics and doctors for coming too close to me with a needle, though in my defence, my fist has only ever connected with a medic once, although I did knock him out.' She shook her head slightly, annoyed at herself for going off track.

'After this was in the news, I was investigated by IAB and taken off the case. Calleigh worked her ass off to prove it was all some fabricated nonsense, and proved that the film was faked. And then Tim and Eric discovered how Cole had murdered the girls and tried to cover it up, and he was arrested, along with his PA. But by then, the damage had been done. Tim saw the news, and trust me when I say it was a very good fake, and believed that I cheated on him, and we broke up.

'On top of all that, we, Horatio and I, found out that my half-sister had leukaemia and needed a bone marrow transplant. Her mother wasn't a match, Horatio wasn't a match, and neither was I. So Horatio had to tell his brother's wife, who was also a detective at Miami Dade PD, that not only did her husband cheat on her and have a daughter with another woman when he was undercover with her, the child had leukaemia, and we needed to see if she was a match to her son, which thankfully, he was.

'And in the process, it came out I was also her step-daughter. So even after the case was closed, and I was proved innocent, one of the detectives wouldn't work with me, and a CSI couldn't work with me. On top of all that, I was still being hounded by the press, and it got to the point whereby I was followed to crime scenes and couldn't do my job properly. I have a temper problem, as I'm sure you've noticed by now, and I tried my hardest not to do anything stupid, but after two weeks, I lost it. And hit out at a photographer. I didn't hit him, but it was enough for IAB, who were already watching the team, to put their foot down. Horatio made it so I was kept in the lab, rather than be suspended, and I had to attend anger management classes and counselling, but it had gone on too long. I wanted out. I had stopped eating, stopped sleeping; I had pretty much stopped living.

'So Horatio put out a note that I was looking for somewhere else to go, and that's when Mr. Ecklie found me and invited me here. I packed up, left my friends, left my family, and drove here, only stopping in Baton Rouge to see how everyone was after Katrina had hit, then carried on here. And what happened here? I had a decomposing body in my house, my cars got towed and I thought my belongings were gone, I was locked in a morgue, and have had you, Sara, on my case, and look, I got shot _again_.

'Clearly, you get on well with your colleagues, and I'm sorry if I've walked in and stirred things up. It wasn't my intention. I just wanted to get to work, and do my job, without bringing any unnecessary attention to me. I get that I am young, and probably seem too good to be true, what with what I have managed to accomplish in my short life. But I worked hard for it. I did nothing _but_ work for it. I can count on my hands the amount of nights I had out when I was in college, even when I was in New York. I promise you now, I don't think I was ever as happy as I was in Miami, and even two weeks ago, I couldn't see me ever being happy again. And then I found out I was coming here.

'I knew it wouldn't be easy, and I didn't expect a walk in the park. In New York, I was replacing someone who had been promoted to Sergeant and had been with my partner for seven years before he was with me. He, could be, can be,' she corrected herself, 'one of the most racist, misogynistic, patronising pieces of hard work imaginable, and even though I saved his life, and got shot in the process, I spent a long time proving myself because he didn't think I was capable of doing a good job.

'Whilst guns aren't as big a problem in England, I still got hurt, stabbed, actually. Once again on my first case, and that didn't help in confirming to people that I was incapable to do the job. In London, I was the youngest person there, and in two years had excelled myself to a level past most who had been there three, four times as long, just to prove I could do the job. When I went to Miami, sure, I got shot again… on my first case, but although there were some small doubts about my experience and ability to do the job, by the time I was out of the hospital, people just let me get on with it.

'And before you say anything about me having an uncle as a boss, there were only four other people who knew about it. Besides, as the papers later found out, my father was accused of being a dirty cop. And whilst Horatio will swear blindly that this was nothing but lies, mud sticks, and I would have had to have proved myself again, whilst also trying to prove that I wasn't there because of my relationship with Horatio. I didn't do the procedure to get a promotion, or to prove myself. I did it as a way to vent my anger. And had I known I was going to get the promotion, sure I would have done it again, but I would have only released it under the condition I wouldn't get the promotion.

'I may be young, but I am not that naïve that I expect to get on with everyone and everyone like me too.' She told Sara, her voice finally rising as her temper flared, 'but I am not stupid enough to put up with this crap from you. I admit, I have probably not dealt with the many issues in my past. Hell, I have run away from them all, rather than face them, but that was my choice, and damn it, I did not need to have my past dredged up, by you, in front of everyone. If you had a problem, you could have taken me aside and I would have told you. But instead, I have had to bring up everything I have been trying hard to put behind me, just because you are insecure. Maybe I never made the best first impression with you. Sorry. But was it _really_ a good enough reason for you to, and I can't describe it as anything else, a good enough reason for you to be nothing more than a complete bitch to me?

'If I really bother you this much, Sara, I will leave. Maybe buy that island in the Pacific and spend my life sunbathing.' All of a sudden the rage left Cheryl, and she continued, talking quietly, 'all I know is right now, I am physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. I don't have the energy left in me to keep doing this, to keep trying to prove myself.'

'Cheryl, I-' Sara tried.

'Unless you want to know things like, what sports I like, and teams I support, or you want to hear the long list of things I'm allergic to, or perhaps even, how old I was when I lost my virginity, just don't. In fact, unless you want to share every detail of _your_ life with everyone, please, just leave.'

'Cheryl,' Sara tried again.

'I think it would be best if you just left,' Greg told her quietly. Sara looked at him. If even _he_ was agreeing with Cheryl…

She looked at Nick, who like with Cheryl, couldn't look her in the eye, Warrick looked upset, as did Catherine, who looked like she had been crying at some point. Finally, she brought her eyes to Grissom's. He just looked disappointed. 'I'm sorry,' she said before quickly leaving.

Cheryl looked up at Grissom, 'call the Miami Dade Police Department Crime Lab, and ask to speak to Lieutenant Horatio Caine. He will confirm everything I just said.' She told him quietly.

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**Okely dokely, there y'all go - a double chappie for ya. Amittedly, not all that interesting, but I think that Cheryl needed to be explained (for all y'all who never read any of the previous stories. Now, keep in mind, that these two chapters summarise, um, four, other stories, so this is the 'crib-note' version)**

**I'm hopefully gonna have the next chapter up tomorrow morning! Thanks for reading!**


	12. Chapter 12

_Cassandra - yeah, she got shot, again! Maybe at her next job (wherever and whenever that may be) I might be nice, and allow her to go a day without acquiring a new scar.So you noticed the hands...? Hmmm, maybe I'll write something a little fluffy?_

_Daynaa - don't worry, things will all be resolved with Sara, but not until Cheryl is back at work!_

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Grissom pursed his lips, before finally speaking, 'get better. I expect to see you in the lab, as soon as the doctor gives you the all clear. I will have words with Sara. That was out of order. And I don't think I will need to call Lieutenant Caine.' He told her, 'and I see no reason why this should have to be brought up again.' He added, more to the rest of the group, than to her. He glanced at Catherine before leaving the room.

Catherine watched him go, and then looked over at Cheryl. She still had tears streaming down her face. She sighed and marched over to the bed, collecting the papers that had been left there, 'well,' she said, breaking the awkward silence, 'there's no need for these,' she told no-one in particular, before screwing them up and throwing them in the trash can. She glanced at the others before her gaze settled on Warrick.

The two looked at each other, seemingly reading each other's mind, 'we should go, Cath, we need to finish up some paperwork,' he told her and the room.

Cheryl was thankful. She knew they hadn't been working the same case, but she just needed some time to herself.

'If you need anything, just call me,' said Catherine, 'anything at all.'

'We'll be back to check on you later,' added Warrick, 'so get some rest.'

Cheryl nodded, without catching her eye, and waited for the two to leave. Finally, it was just her, Greg and Nick left.

Greg stood watching her. Short of telling Sara to leave, he hadn't moved a muscle whilst Cheryl had been talking. He looked over at Nick, who was still holding onto Cheryl's hand, although it seemed more like it was she who was clutching at his hand. Nick stared back, and like Catherine and Warrick, silently agreed it was time for them to leave. Greg looked back at Cheryl. He was sure that the two of them would become really good friends, and there was no way he was going to let someone who had spoken back to Grissom disappear easily. Right now though, it seemed like the best thing to do would be to give her some space. 'I should go too,' he told her, 'I think Ecklie wants me to do some overtime in DNA.'

Cheryl raised her eyes to look at him, not sure what to expect. He smiled at her, 'I'll be back. We need to discuss ways in which we can wind up Grissom,' he told her, winking. She smiled back at him, and taking it as a sign that she would be alright, left the room.

Nick glanced down at the small hand which was encased in his, wondering what to say. Unable to find the words, he gave it a small squeeze before releasing it and getting up. He was about to walk out of the door when he looked back. Cheryl had brought her knees up, and wrapped her arms around her legs, but what almost caused him to cry out was the fact that her body was shuddering in great, silent sobs.

All thoughts of leaving, and all insecurities he had about what to do were gone. He was back by her bed in three large strides, and had nudged her over, minding her bandages, so that he was sat beside her, and then he wrapped his arms around her. Cheryl froze for the briefest of moments before turning into him and sobbing openly into his chest. He just sat there, holding her, and stroking her hair.

-------------------------------

When Cheryl awoke the following morning, she didn't open her eyes straight away. Instead she allowed herself to wake up first before opening her eyes to the harsh light of the hospital room. She felt warm and safe. Slowly, she realised that the reason she felt so safe was because there was an arm wrapped around her, and she herself had her arms wrapped someone's torso. She slowly peaked her eyes open and looked up. They were met by a pair of brown eyes peaking out at her from underneath a mane of equally brown hair. 'What time is it?' She asked him, groggily, as she slowly pulled herself to a sitting position, wincing at the pain from underneath her bandage.

Nick got out from underneath her and poured her a glass of water, 'around 8,' he told her, as he handed the water.

'I feel like I slept longer than a few hours,' she told him after she had taken a couple of sips of water.

Nick cocked his head, '8am,' he corrected her.

'8am!' She exclaimed, nearly dropping her water. 'How long was I asleep for?'

'15 hours and,' he glanced at his watch, 'about 20 minutes.'

Cheryl's mouth dropped open, '15 hours? You stayed all that time? Why didn't you get kicked out? Why didn't you just leave?'

Nick smiled, 'the nurses didn't realise I was still here until about 2am when they came in to check your blood pressure. You were sleeping soundly, and I guess they didn't want to disturb you. That's why I didn't leave, anyway. I'd already been there for nine hours anyway.' He told her, as he eased himself into the chair next to the bed.

Cheryl frowned, 'did you actually get any sleep?'

'A couple of hours – not much.'

'Oh, Nick, I'm so sorry. You should have just left.'

'Hey,' he told her, 'you know as well as I do, that us CSIs can cope on very little sleep. I've done longer, in more uncomfortable positions. Besides,' he added, his eyes twinkling at her, 'if I sleep with a girl, I don't get up and run out halfway through the night.'

Cheryl smiled and looked down at the sheets, 'thank you.'

'No worries. If nothing else, I learnt a very valuable lesson.' Cheryl looked up at him, 'for future reference,' he continued, 'you hog sheets.'

'Well,' said Cheryl, as she broke out into a grin, 'they were my sheets.'

'So that's how you play is it? I'll remember that.'

'Whatever are you trying to imply, Nicholas?' She asked him, before starting to laugh. Nick stared at her, before joining her in the laughter.

--------------------------

By mid-morning, Cheryl and Nick had been joined by Greg, who had returned accompanied by a box underneath each arm.

'Are you moving in too?' She asked him, as he placed the boxes down on the end of the bed.

'I don't think so,' he told her, 'you strike me as someone who snores.'

Nick chuckled, 'she doesn't snore. But you'd get cold – she hogs the covers.'

Greg raised his eyebrows, 'so you show me your underwear, but you share a bed with him? Where are your loyalties, Cheryl?'

Cheryl shrugged at him, 'at this moment in time, I would have to say they escaped from this bullet hole in me. I'll get back to you when I've managed to relocate them. So, what've you got in the box?'

'Ah, well, I have some very important things which I know you will surely perish without,' he told her, before removing several items from the larger of the box. 'We have a coffee maker, complete with my favourite brew, which,' he continued, before Cheryl could voice the comment she had opened her mouth to say, 'I will make you a drinker of as you are trapped here, for a few days at least, and have nowhere to run to. I also have a Playstation 2, complete with several games, including theGran Turismos. Now, I realise that it's not the same as driving your own cars, but as you can't drive you'll have to make do. I also have some of my personal, favourite CDs for you to listen to, courtesy of the PS2, and a few DVDs as well.'

'Jeeze, Greggo, one of you is enough,' muttered Nick, 'we don't need you creating a female version of you as well.'

'Ah, but Nick, I think that's where you're wrong. I think she already is a female version of me. In fact, she's a better version of me – she spoke back to Grissom.'

'Sorry to break it to you, Nick,' said Cheryl, glancing over the CDs, games and DVDs that were sat in her lap, 'but I have all of this you see before me, anyway.'

Greg laughed, 'see, I told you. Now all I need to do is make her a coffee addict.'

Nick groaned, 'she's supposed to be resting, not staying up all night playing games, hooked on coffee.' He shook his head, 'a female Greg in the lab. Oh lord. Perhaps I should call Grissom and warn him.'

'Warn him? He'll be thrilled!' Exclaimed Greg.

Nick raised an eyebrow at him.

'You know what,' said Greg, 'I think I'll take this back with me,' he told them, packing the coffee maker back into the box, along with the coffee.

Cheryl burst out laughing, 'no wonder he looked so worried when he asked me if we were related. What's in the other box?'

Greg finished putting the coffee maker back in the box, and then turned his attention to the other box. 'The most important thing.' The box quacked.

'Eddie!'

Greg grinned and lifted the restless gosling from out of the other box, placing him on the foot of the bed. The gosling waddled straight over to Cheryl, poking her in the arm with his beak, before curling up in her lap and falling asleep. 'Lazy duck,' Cheryl muttered, stroking the gosling's soft feathers. 'Thanks, Greg.'

'No worries,' he told her.

There was a knock at the door, and in it came a man with a large box, 'Cheryl Carter?'

'That's me,' Cheryl told him. The man walked over and handed the box over to Nick, before giving some paperwork to Cheryl.

'Sign here,' he told her. Cheryl did as requested and as soon as she had, he handed over a large envelope. He took the clipboard back from her and left the room.

Cheryl glanced from the envelope, to the box, then back to the envelope, frowning.

'Are you going to open them, or are you just going to stare at them all day?' Greg asked her impatiently, hopping on the bed by her knees, bringing his legs up underneath him as he crossed his legs.

Cheryl ripped open the envelope and pulled out several sheets of paper of folded paper, she unfolded them and glanced at the top one, recognising the curved handwriting instantly:

'_Happy birthday, Cheryl. I hope Las Vegas is everything you wanted it to be, and you are settling in nicely, especially into the new house. If you need anything at all, you know where I am. And on that note, you also know where I am when you decide to return my sunglasses. Take care, don't speed, and don't get shot._

_All my love, Horatio_

_PS. The present. Again that was all Eric's doing. You have been warned.'_

Cheryl laughed, 'he clearly wrote that one before I got here.' She told her friends as she turned her attention to the next piece of paper.

'_Cheryl,'_ the curved writing read, _'Happy birthday! You'd best come visit soon so I can have a girly catch-up with you! If they're still there, I worked with some of your new colleagues once. They seem like good people. But they're not us. The sooner you realise this, the better – so come back. Short of Alexx, who, as you know, is busy in the morgue, all I have for company is a bunch of men. The testosterone levels – I'm telling you, if I breathe it in for much longer, the next time you see me, _I'll_ be a man! Seriously though, I hope you are fine, and arrived safely – without speeding – you know Horatio will find out. And for God's sake – don't get shot!_

_Love you lots, Calleigh, xx_

Cheryl laughed again before turning to the next letter, '_Cheryl, sweetie, happy birthday. I hope you are alive and well, without any new bullet marks on you. Things are slightly different around here. I still expect to see you when I get called out to a dead body, but instead, I'm greeted by your replacement. And although he's a sweetie too, he's not you. For starters, he doesn't get on with Eric, or Timmy, for that matter. And he was plucked out of the PD, so he's not experienced either. Sorry, baby, I'm finding all his faults – I guess I'm hoping you'll realise that the Sunshine State is better suited to you. The children say hi, and they hope that Eddie is alright – so far, despite their pleading, I haven't caved in and gotten them a gosling too, but it's Christmas in a few months, so perhaps Santa will bring them one._

_Take care, Cheryl, and watch out for those bullets. Don't forget to show those Vegas CSIs what Miami can produce.'_

Cheryl turned to the final piece of paper, frowning momentarily – it was from Eric. She was still hoping that, especially after their goodbye, that Tim would have at least sent something. She sighed and read the final note, _'Cheryl! Ha ha, it's you're birthday! You're getting old now… Damnit, that means I'm getting older. Ah well, at least I'm not as old as H! Well, H found a replacement for you. I don't like him. He's not you. Although, as he keeps telling me, he knows you – Ryan Wolfe? Well so what if he knows you! I know you too, and I knew you first. And it's not going to make me like him anymore. Speed doesn't like him either. He's not said so, but I can tell – simply, he's not you. If nothing else, you were easy on the eye!_

'_So, as I'm writing this, you've been gone a whole two days. Firstly, in response to what you are thinking – I don't care if two days is not a reasonable amount of time to decided whether you like someone or not. Now that we've gotten past that… you've been gone two days. I have been talking to everyone, getting them to write you a letter, (Dan and Valera say hi, by the way… so does Wolfe.) so that I can sort something out so that you can open something on your birthday. All I ask in return, is that you name your first-born after me… nah, I can't ask that. You're doing that anyway!_

_Everyone gave me something back, including Horatio, which surprised me, as I didn't think he would. Everyone except Speed, that is. Sorry about that. I think he tried, but in his defence, what do you say to the woman you love, that you stupidly let walk out of your life? He does miss you, you know!_

_The last time I checked, Horatio hadn't noticed his shades were missing. But then again, he seems to have several pairs, so it may take a while. That's why you should come back – there are many more shades to hide. And a newbie to wind up. I got him with the long stand prank – 2 hours in the trace lab, _and_ the left handed biro one (thanks for that). In your words, he's a muppet. Having said that, he did manage to make it through his first day without getting shot… unfortunately! Speaking of which, you had better have managed to have done the same thing._

_Hey, look at that, I managed to write you a small essay – I don't think I've ever willingly written that much. See, you're missed._

_Look after yourself, kid. Remember, we did buy you a vest, so there is no need for you to continue to be such a bullet magnet! Eric._

_PS. Now, I sent these letters to a store out in Vegas with specific instructions to deliver these letters with your present. Hopefully, they aren't stupid and didn't put the present in the box until the last minute. That being said, you should open it quickly.'_

Cheryl put the letters down, and glanced warily at the box. So the present was Eric's idea? Unfortunately, she knew what Eric was like.

'Cheryl, I don't know what your friend Eric ordered,' said Nick, who was staring uneasily at the box, 'but I think it's moving.'

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**Yuppers, guys... just one more chapter left :D**


	13. Chapter 13

_Daynna - lol, I wasn't sure about the letters, but they kept me entertained when writing them, so I kept them in on the off chance that it would entertain someone else!_

_Cassandra - No, she knew Horatio would know. C'mon, it's H - you'd just know he'd know. And I thought you'd like the Nick bit!_

_Wraiths-angel - thanks for readig and reviewing, and here's the next chapter for you!_

_littlemissprincess - I'm happy you've been reading/enjoying the series. Things will get resolved, but I'm leaving that until the next chapter.And I'm sorry, but it's not a puppy!_

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Cheryl bit her lip and picked Eddie up, before leaning across and handing him to Greg. She turned her attention to the box, which Nick gently laid in her lap. Slowly, she pulled of the outer wrapping to discover a box which had small holes in the top of it. 'What on earth have you got me this time, Eric,' she muttered, as she pulled the lid off. The box contained two things – something alive, grey, and furry, which was curled up in the corner, and another box. She leant in and picked the ball of fur up. 'You got me a ferret!' She exclaimed.

She put the ferret down on her lap, and watched as it ran around in circles, creating a nest in the sheets, before settling down in ball. Shaking her head in disbelief, Cheryl reached back into the box and pulled out the other one. Inside this box, there were two pot bowls, a bright red harness, and a lead, along with a small, golden envelope. She opened that and from it pulled a small card from it.

'_Hello. My name is _Seth_. I am a present that has been bought for you by_ Miami Cri- (the blank wasn't big enough for the details to be fit in). _I am only six months old, but I have been especially trained, just for you. I am like a puppy. I am housebroken, and will respond to the following commands: _Sit, stay, heel_. Please give me a good home, and I will be a faithful companion. Should you require any assistance, please contact…_'

'He got me a ferret.' Cheryl muttered in disbelief.

'You could probably return him,' suggested Greg.

Cheryl looked over at him and broke out into a huge grin. 'Are you kidding? I love him!'

'Cheryl,' said Nick.

'Yeah?'

'You're friends, back in Miami.'

'Yeah?'

'They _all_ wrote something about you getting shot.'

Cheryl nodded, 'they all know me too well.'

'Since when did the hospital turn into a zoo?'

Cheryl turned around and found Catherine in the doorway, Warrick just behind her. 'This is Seth. My friends back at Miami got him for me.'

'Isn't a zoo a little extreme?' Greg asked Catherine as she sat down.

'Are you kidding, two kids petting two animals? If that's not a petting zoo, it's pretty damn close,' said Warrick.

'You took the words out of my mouth.' Catherine said, laughing at the expressions on Greg and Cheryl's faces.

'Hey, I'm not a kid!' Objected Greg.

'I'm twenty three… no twenty four! I have an excuse. Greg, on the other hand…' said Cheryl, now joining in on the laughter.

Greg pouted at her, 'I can't wait until you get your loyalty back. I need an ally against these guys.'

'So, I spoke to your doctor, Cheryl, who obviously doesn't know about the animals in here,' said Catherine, 'he says that you'll be able to go home by the end of the week, on the condition you pretty much stay in bed for the following week, and don't return to work for a few weeks after that.'

Cheryl rubbed the back of her neck, 'ah, pants. I was hoping to have at least two weeks in here before I had to start thinking about that.'

'Do you need some help with your house?' Catherine asked.

'No, that's sorted. Horatio called me, after Sofia called him when she was trying to track down the owner. He said that he had contacted his realtor, who had put him through to someone here. Anyway, he managed to get out of the last contract for me, and even found me another house, complete with pond for Eddie. The only catch is that the house is needing some work. So I'm going to have to check into a hotel for a few weeks until it's finished.' She frowned, 'so, you guys have been living here a while – which hotels allow pets?'

Catherine shook her head, 'not going to happen. Besides, I'm sure one of us could put you up for a while. I can't. My mother is in town, and I know Warrick has just gotten married,' she told her; ignoring the funny look Warrick was giving her.

'I have room,' chimed Greg.

'You have a spare room, don't you, Nick?'

'I have a spare room,' repeated Greg.

Catherine glanced over at him, 'Greg, you would keep her from sleeping so she could play video games with you all night. And if you weren't doing that, you would be trying to force feed her coffee.'

Greg flapped his mouth open and shut at her, at a loss for words.

'You know him too well,' laughed Cheryl.

'Mmmm,' agreed Catherine, 'except somehow, I don't think you'd put up much of a resistance. So, Nick - your spare room available?'

'Sure. If you want it?'

'Thank you, guys, but I'm quite happy checking into a hotel.'

'Nonsense,' Catherine told her, 'you wont find a hotel, and besides, the doctor said that there should be someone around to check on you. I'd ask Grissom, but I think the last thing to see his spare room had at least six legs.'

'Look, it's no trouble,' said Nick.

'You don't mind about these two?' She asked him, indicating to the two animals.

'I'm more worried about you stealing the covers.'

'Oh, aye!' Cheryl exclaimed, 'and where exactly to you expect me to be sleeping?'

Warrick looked at Nick and Cheryl, then down at Catherine. 'Well guys, I know it's been brief, but me and Cath should be going.'

'We should?'

'Yeah,' he told her, tugging at her arm, 'like now.'

Catherine shrugged, 'um, I'll call in later, Cheryl. Is there anything you need?' As Cheryl shook her head, Catherine allowed Warrick to tug her out of the room.

'What are you doing, Cath,' he asked as the door had barely swung shut behind them.

'Nothing. Why?'

'Nothing?'

'She needed somewhere to stay.'

'And it didn't occur to you to ask your father if he had a room in one of his hotels?'

Catherine shrugged, 'you heard the doctor, she needs someone to keep an eye on her.'

'Hotels have maids and room service.'

'It's not the same, Warrick. You wouldn't like to be shipped into a hotel, when you've just gotten out of hospital. She needs a home.'

'Well what was wrong with Greg's?'

'It has Greg in it,' she told him, as if he'd asked a stupid question. 'Are you telling me, you don't think for one second that those two wouldn't end up playing computer games until the early hours of the morning? Or even worse, until the late hours of the afternoon?'

'Not for one second. But maybe that's what she needs. She pretty much admitted last night that she never had a childhood.'

'Last time I checked, Nick had a powerstation too. Him and Greg were swapping a game which sounded something like Angels May Cry.'

Warrick chuckled, 'it's a _Playstation_ and I think the game you were referring to was called _Devil May Cry._'

Catherine wafted her hands at him, 'Lindsay is more interested in boys, make-up and piercings, than computer games. Thought frankly, I'm not sure which is worse.'

'Well, so long as you're not trying to play cupid.'

'Me?' She asked him, innocently.

Warrick looked at her, 'yes you.'

'Warrick, my dear, I wouldn't dream of it, _even though_ the doctor mentioned he had stayed the night, _and even though_ there is some serious flirting happening between them.'

'I don't think she's over that guy in Miami, yet, you know.'

'And who better to help her over him than our very own Nick? And when was the last time Nick went out on a date?'

'Catherine,' said Warrick in a warning tone.

'Relax, Warrick. I'm not going to do anything. They're living together now, if it's going to happen, it will happen.'

'And if it doesn't, you're not going to push it?'

Catherine smiled at him, 'I wouldn't dream of it.'

'I'm sure you wouldn't.' He muttered.

------------------------------

Nick and Greg were sat on either side of Cheryl's bed, cards in hand, busily engrossed in a game of poker, which Cheryl was sure they were allowing her to win – she was up fifty dollars, and a Hot Water Music CD (courtesy of Greg).

She was just about to add the next card to the flop, when her phone rang. 'Are you allowed that in here?' Greg asked her, as she reached over and flicked it open.

She frowned at him, 'Carter.'

'_Cheryl Lesley Carter!'_ It was bellowed so loudly down the phone, that even Nick and Greg heard it clearly.

'Hi, Horatio,' she winced.

'_You got shot! Again!'_

'I didn't jump in front of the gun, this time.' She mumbled down the phone.

'_Between you and Speedle, I am going to be sent to an early grave.'_ Cheryl winced, _'now, do I have to be concerned that every time I get a call with a Vegas area code, it's some detective, or supervisor calling to tell me you're in trouble?'_

Cheryl winced. 'To be fair, Horatio, why else would someone from Vegas, whose number you don't recognise, be calling you?'

'_Cheryl, that is not the response I wanted to hear.'_

Cheryl was at a loss for words. She thrust the phone over to Nick, 'say something to him, before he flies out here,' she hissed at him.

'What do you want me to say?' he hissed back.

'I don't care. Just don't let him get on a plane. Because he will. And I have his sunglasses, so I'm going to see his disapproving glare. And it's not what I want to be on the receiving end of.'

Nick shrugged and lifted the phone to his ear.

'_Cheryl? Are you there?'_

'Lieutenant Caine? Um, this is Nick Stokes. I'm a colleague of Cheryl's.'

'_Good afternoon, Mr Stokes. What happened to my niece?'_

'Um, the nurse came to, um, check on her bloodpressure.'

'_You wouldn't be lying to me, would you, Mr Stokes?'_

'Look, Lieutenant Caine, Cheryl said to let you know that she would be fine, and there is no reason for you to fly out here.'

'_And who is going to look after her?'_

'Oh, that would be me, sir. She's going to stay at mine until her house is ready, or until she's well, if that takes longer.'

'_I mean, who's going to make sure she doesn't get shot again?'_

'Don't worry, sir,' Nick glared at Cheryl, 'in future, I will make sure that whenever she goes out to a scene, she wears a vest. _Regardless,_ of whether or not she likes it.'

There was a pause from Horatio, _'I appreciate that, Mr Stokes, but I do have to ask.'_ There was another pause, '_I do have to ask, what are your intentions with my niece?'_

Nick's eyes almost exploded out of his head, 'oh, uh, the nurse is back,' he blurted out, 'I have to go now – she's not liking the phone. I'll get Cheryl to talk to you later.' He hung up and flung the phone at Greg, who was laughing insanely. 'If you're uncle is that intimidating down the phone, I can see why you don't want him coming here.'

'Yeah? You should really try being on the other end of his disapproving stare, when he doesn't have his shades on.'

'And you should try not doing anything that warrants me having to fly out here.'

Cheryl froze. She glanced up over her hand of cards and stared at Nick and Greg. Nick had gone white, and Greg was looking from Cheryl to the doorway behind her. Cheryl slowly turned around and found herself staring at her uncle, who was stood staring at her with his hands on his hips.

'Busted.' Laughed Greg. He was rewarded for that statement by glares from both Caines. 'Whoa, you two have the same glare!'

'Greg, I think it was time we left,' said Nick, dropping his cards on the bed, and removing Seth, who was curled up in his lap, and putting him next to Eddie, who was curled up in Cheryl's lap.

The two of them said their goodbyes and left the room so quickly, Cheryl was sure that they could have set a new world record. She sighed, and looked sheepishly at her uncle. 'Chocolate?' She asked him, offering him a box.

He took one, then headed to the trash can to throw out the wrapped. As he dropped it in, he stopped and noticed the screwed up bits of paper that Catherine had thrown in the day before. He bent down and pulled some out. 'Cheryl, what are these?'

Cheryl sighed, 'paper clippings from the Miami Prophet. Now everyone here knows what I was hoping they wouldn't.'

'Cheryl,' started Horatio, as he began leafing through the papers, 'Cheryl, these papers were faxed.'

'And? How else would Sara get the information?'

'They have the fax number of the Miami Crime Lab.'

'Is that a problem?' She asked him.

'Nothing you should worry about. I'm already looking into it.' He came and sat down next to her. 'Who is this Sara?'

'Someone I work with.'

'And what, pray tell, did you do to upset her?'

'I honestly don't know. Worked with her?'

Horatio frowned. 'It seems I will have to have a word with her.'

'Thank you, Horatio, but I think that is something I should do. Although it's going to happen when I'm better.' She looked down at the animals curled up in her lap.'I'm sorry I let you down again.' She muttered.

'You haven't let me down. But you scared me.' He sat back, 'however, I would like my sunglasses back.

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**So... that's the end of part 6 (crikey - have i written six parts already!) Thanks for all y'all for reading, and cookies to all those who leave reviews (hint, hint! lol)**

**Part 7 will be up soon. I'm busy working away on it. Lets see... spoilers? Well, Cheryl and Sara are going to have a much needed talk. There will be a Christmas party. Some kissing under the mistletoe. Um, cars - street racing - Cheryl needs some fun! lol What else can I tell you. Hmmm, a previous, minor, character will pop up - I will not only give cookies, but I will supply the milk as well if anyone guess who it is! (:p) Keep an eye out - it'll probably be around the end of next week.**


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